


Fangs

by MerlinOfTheShire



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Blood, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Love, M/M, Nightmares, Permanent Injury, Protective Simon Snow, Recovery, Romance, Sharing a Bed, The Mage is the worst, Vampires, Watford (Simon Snow), fangs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-01-25 13:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21356683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerlinOfTheShire/pseuds/MerlinOfTheShire
Summary: The Mage orders Baz's fangs to be removed.Baz may not have ever killed anyone, but Simon knows the Mage has sure as killed Baz.(HIATUS-WILL RESUME SOON) -12/10/2020
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 87
Kudos: 446





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Carry On or any of Rainbow Rowell's stories. 
> 
> A/N
> 
> I'm really sorry.

**Simon**

Baz is missing again. Well, maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but I haven’t seen him all afternoon and he hasn’t come back to our room yet. He always comes back right after supper. Sometimes he’s back before I am. I think maybe he is hunting- but I know he never hunts before coming back to the room first. He waits until he thinks I’m asleep, then leaves. Over and over again. Come back to the room, wait until I’m asleep, leave.

You'd think that he'd have gotten over all that, stop pretending that he doesn’t have to sneak out every night.

I think I understand though, why he tries to hide it though; he always seems so ashamed of what he has to do. He hates it when his fangs pop out against his will, and even more when he has to drink while I’m around- he always sends me off to wait somewhere out of view. I wish he knew that he doesn’t have to pretend; to wait for me to be asleep to keep himself alive. I don’t know how to show him that, and I’ve never been good with words. So I just never say anything, and watch that I never seem disgusted. I don’t though- get disgusted. I'll admit it’s off-putting, but its _Baz._

Maybe he just needed to drink earlier than usual? That would make sense; he left much later last night. I don’t think he ever lets himself drink enough. Or maybe there isn’t enough? 

Well, there is, and that's a dark thought.

I know Baz is determined never to do that, not willingly at least.

Yeah, he’s probably just hunting early. Maybe I should go to sleep, then he might come back.

But I can’t stop staring at the door.

* * *

**Baz**

The Mage had pulled me aside when I was leaving my last class for the day. I was annoyed, wanting to go to Simon, but I'd gone with him. I'm not sure why. There were others waiting for us in his office, hands folded behind their backs. The Mage's men. I wanted to leave then.

I didn't catch on right away; he'd just explained that he wanted to work with me to improve the safety of Watford, and I thought he meant my family’s power. Our magic.

I’d been surrounded by the time he’d finished explaining.

I caught on.

Now I want to run.

I cant.

They're getting closer to me now. Too close. “What are they doing?” I demand.

They take a hold of me and push me to the ground, and somehow I can’t shake them off. Panic starts to set in; they’re so much stronger than me. _Are they like me? _I don’t have a chance if they are.

I see something shiny and metal in one of their hands.

_No. Merlin, no. _

“It is for the best,” the Mage says, unmoving.

I thrash against their hold, panic setting in. I don’t want this to happen. It cant- one of them grabs my jaw, squeezing. I try to resist, but my jaw feels like it’s going to shatter. I stop, and there are tears in my eyes. Merlin, _they cant-_

They are.

One of them is holding a vial filled with something red. I can smell it. _Blood. _

I can feel my gums starting to hurt, and the beginning of my fangs pushing through.

_No_. _You’re stronger than this. Come on, resist. _I scrunch my eyes. _Simon. Think of Simon. _He’s cinnamon and clueless and- 

“Drop some in his mouth,” someone says.

My head is yanked back by my hair before I can think to resist, and fingernails dig into my cheeks, pushing my jaw further open. I see the vial again. _Fuck, they cant-_ but my head is held still and soon there is blood on my tongue, and it doesn’t taste like anything I’ve drunk before- It hits me. _No. no no no, I wont-_

But I have.

My fangs are filling my mouth now, thirsting. 

Someone starts to pull.

All I can think about is how much it hurts.

I can taste my own blood through the tears that have started to fall. I try to scream, but only a gargled cry leaves my throat. I think I might be choking on my own blood.

I want Simon, I want him near.

They start on the other one, and I think it hurts more. Something tears in my gum, and I feel blood run down my shirt. All I can taste is blood.

They draw back away from me, and I see them.

My fucking fangs, one being inspected and the other in between the pliers. They're not white anymore, and the blood on them looks almost black.

I feel sick, they're not supposed to be there. I think I can still feel them in my mouth, _but they’re not. _They're over there.

They fucking pulled them out, _oh god._

I’m sick.

* * *

**Simon**

I think I might be panicking now. It's fucking 6 in the morning and Baz still isn’t back. I’d gone to sleep eventually; I don’t know when. The first thing I’d done when I’d woken up was turn over and look at his bed.

Empty.

He couldn’t have gone to breakfast, it doesn’t start for another two hours. He should be back. I don’t know what to think. Baz has been kidnapped before. Has it happened again? A new type of fear runs through me. What if this time they don’t know to feed him and I can't find him and-

The Mage is in standing in our room. I hadn’t even seen him come in.

I bolt up from the bed, “Sir! Somethings wrong, Baz has been missing since-“

“Mr Pitch is not missing, Snow.”

I stare. The Mage seems calm, unbothered. He always seems like that though. “Is he alright?” I ask, worried. _Has something happened?_

“He is …weakened,” the Mage says after a moment.

I frown, “weakened?”

The Mage nods, “yes, weakened. As I’m sure you will understand, I have found that in Mr Pitch’s maturity, it would have been unwise to not attend to his …_condition.”_

Condition? _Does the Mage know?_ He must know, what else would he be referring to. But I have to be sure. “His condition, sir?”

The Mage remains unblinking. “Yes, Snow. I’m certain you are aware of his Vampirism, hence why you should understand why I’ve had his fangs removed. For the safety of the other students, you understand.”

My legs shake. Baz’s fangs. _Removed. _I feel sick.

Unwavering, the Mage moves to the door, “he will be returning here shortly. Make sure he gets to class.”

He leaves, and I’m left standing in the middle of the room, my knees growing weak. _Oh god, Baz._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Carry On or any of Rainbow Rowell's stories.

**Baz**

I was thrown into one of the Weeping Tower’s cells before I could even think to try and escape. They’d pulled me up by my hair, and I’d struggled to keep my feet under me as they dragged. I couldn’t breathe through the blood that filled my mouth. The bile that I’d left on the Mage’s floor had done nothing to improve the taste. 

I'm not sure how long I've been here. 

It’s so dark, too dark. Like before, when I’d barely been able to turn over inside that fucking coffin. For a moment, I'd thought I was back there, trapped an unable to move. It’s too bloody dark. Does Simon wonder where I’ve gone too? I’ve probably only been gone for half a day. It feels like more. I wonder if he is worried? I don’t deserve to have anyone worry over me, least of all him. He’s just so _good_. And I’m just not.

I couldn't even hold myself together enough to resists my thirst. I was just so _hungry. _And exhausted, and hurting. I'm still am those things. There was just so much blood. My blood. I don’t think it did anything though. I’m still so hungry. Maybe because it was mine? It's now almost black and I’m not even sure if I’m alive enough to make more of it.

Would Simon be disgusted?

He always tries his hardest to show that’s he’s not, painfully so.

I don’t deserve him.

When they open the door the light burns my skin. Not like how it does in the Normal's films, where the vampire screams and recoils, but it does burn. It was just so dark, and the light was so painfully warm. _Like Simon._ I think his magic makes him burn hotter. He has so much of it.

They drag me up again, by my arms this time. I don’t want to imagine what I look like, covered in blood, my hair knotted and my cheeks bruised. I can’t think much about what the Mage is saying to me, but there’s a bite to his words when he tells me that I’m expected to attend classes as normal. That there will be consequences if I don’t.

I’m to walk back to the Mummers House by myself. I expect he doesn’t want to raise suspicion to his involvement in why one of his students is walking around with his uniform stained in blood and his face bruised. It doesn’t matter anyway, there’s no one around this early in the morning to see me.

He’d disappeared before I left his office, I don’t know where too.

I keep thinking that he’s going to appear whenever I lose concertation, finish me off. He doesn’t, but he’s killed me anyway. Just slower than a stake to the heart. I’m going to starve.

* * *

**Simon**

I don’t think I’ve moved from my spot in the middle of the room when I hear a knock on the door. I think it might be the Mage again for a moment, but then I remember. _Baz. _I’m almost too scared to open the door, not sure what I’ll see when I do, but I have to. It’s _Baz. _And he’s hurt. _Weakened_, the Mage had said.

The Mage would say the same about me if I’d broken every bone in my body. So it’s got to be _bad. _

It is. Merlin, it’s so very bad.

There’s blood on his shirt. No, it’s drenched with it. It’s around his mouth too, dried and black. “Oh, Baz,” I whisper. He looks like he’s killed someone. Bitten them.

But he can’t have. The Mage made sure of it.

There's bruises on his jaw and cheeks; a horrible, dark purple and blue. I didn’t know he had the blood to bruise, or _bleed. _He looks pale though, like he’s trying not to break. I want to hold him together.

I take a step forward, reaching for him, “Baz...”

He breaks.

Knee’s buckling, a pained sob escapes him, and I think I might cry too. I catch him, lowering us both to the ground.

He sobs again, “_Simon.”_

I pull him closer, and he buries his face in my shoulder. His own shake, and I hate it because I can’t do anything about it. All I can do is hold him. I run a hand through his hair; it's so knotted it catches my fingers. “I’ve got you,” I promise, my own tears falling. He’s hurting so much. “I’ve got you, love. I’m not letting go.”

He sobs again, “he- _my fangs_.“

I press a kiss to his temple, “I know, I know. It will be okay.” I don’t think it will be, but right now I just want to hold him and keep him safe. I should have been there. I should have stopped it.

My own tears fall. _Why_ _wasn’t I there?_

* * *

**Baz**

He’s holding me, and I think he’s crying too. I’ve gotten blood all over his shirt, and all over him. He doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps holding me. He’s warm. So very warm. I’m only ever cold until he holds me. He feels like safety and _relief. _

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. I don’t believe him.

But he keeps holding me. I don’t want him to stop, but he has too. I need him to. The Mage had given me his warning, and I don't want to see what '_consequences'_ mean.

* * *

**Simon**

Baz starts to pull away from me, untangling himself. His face is hazy, and his eyes hold panic. “I need- I need to go to class,” he says, trying to stand.

_What? _He can’t be serious. I help him stand, but I don’t let go. “Baz, you can't go to classes. You need to rest, to feed.”

Baz’s eyes go dark, and his voice breaks, “I bloody _can’t, _Simon.”

I swallow, shying from my own idiocy. The thought was in the back of my mind, but- I take in Baz’s face. It's broken, defeated. He knows he’s going to die. No. _No. _I’m not going to let that happen. I’ll figure something out. I have to. I’m the fucking chosen one. I tell him as much.

His eyes grow sad, “Simon…”

I shake my head. “No. _I will,_ I promise.” Baz is not going to die, not yet.

Baz says nothing, his eyes looking at me sadly. I don’t like it. “Come on,“ I say, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, “we’ve got to clean you up.”

“So I can go to classes.” It’s a statement more than a question.

I roll my eyes, leading him to the bathroom. “No, so you can go to bed.”

What was the Mage thinking? Baz hasn't hurt anyone, and how did he even know? And why would he force Baz to go to classes after something like this? He _hurt _Baz. I don’t- I don’t understand it. The Mage doesn’t hurt people. He opened up the school for non-human mages for Merlin's sake!

_But he hurt Baz._

The thought makes me feel uneasy. It doesn’t make sense. But it happened. Maybe it was a mistake?

I sit Baz down on the edge of the bathtub. Honestly, we're lucky to have a bathtub, or an ensuite. Perks of being the Mages heir.

His heir. That doesn’t feel the same anymore. _He hurt Baz. _

Baz slouches forward, but he doesn’t fall. I hold his shoulders anyway. “Do you… do you want me to help?” I ask. He looks too tired to undo a shoelace.

He nods without looking up, “please.”

I feel myself break a little too, he never says please to anyone unless he is about to tell you exactly why he’s right. ‘_Please, Simon. Bunce is twice as powerful as you and she doesn’t even have a proper wand.’_ He’s not wrong about that. I need Penny right now, but I don't want to leave Baz.

“Alright,” I say, grabbing a washer. I make sure the water is warm before I run the cloth under it. I tilt his chin up as gently as I can, mindful of the bruises. He looks scared. “It’s alright,” I say, kissing his forehead. I want to kiss him all over, make it all go away. But I don’t think that will work this time.

“It’s not,” he says.

I run a hand through his hair. “No, it’s not,” I agree. _But I’m going to try my best to help you feel like it is_. I don’t know how though, I can’t even cast a spell to heal him. I can’t cast any spells without making something go wrong. I don’t want to make it worse.

He keeps his eyes locked on me as I begin to remove some of the blood on his mouth. He’s shaking, but I see trust in his eyes. _The Mage did this, _I think, but I don’t want to think about that. I swallow, gently working off the worst of the blood around his jaw. There are several small cuts under all the bruising like fingernails. They haven’t bled much, but I feel sick again. The blood is on his neck too, and I do my best to clean it off.

I get to his shirt, holding the hem, “okay?” I ask.

Baz nods, “okay.”

He does his best to help me take it off, but he can barely lift his arms right now. I don’t even know where his blazer is. Most of the blood was on his shirt, but his chest is still stained. A horrible contrast to his normally grey skin. He looks even paler now. I remove his shoes and pants, leaving his boxers. I do the same to myself. “Come on,” I say, helping him up.

He’s almost completely leaning on me, and I struggle to keep him upright as I pull us both into the shower. It's off-putting to see him this weak, when I've also seen him jump off the ramparts with only a small spell and be completely fine. I turn the water on as hot as I can without it burning us. He’s always so damn cold.

I stand with him under the water for a while, my arms wrapped around him. He’s got his face buried into my shoulder again, and I try not to pay attention to how the water below has turned pink. 

When it turns clear again, I pull back so I can see his face. “Going to wash your hair now,” I say, sitting him down on the tiles in front of me. I don’t think I can hold him up at the same time. I grab the bottles, Baz’s. He cares so much about his hair, spending most of his morning in the bathroom making sure it was perfect. Even with water it looks faded, its dark richness gone. 

I don’t really know if I’m doing it right, but I massage the shampoo as best I can into his hair, finding that it doesn’t do much in getting the tangles out. Baz doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning against me, his head rolled back slightly. I maybe take a little longer than necessary to wash it out. I want him to feel better, just for a moment. I know it’s not going to last. The conditioner does a better job at getting the knots out, and his hair looks shinier once it's washed out.

I let the water run a little longer, carding my fingers through his hair before I eventually shut it off. I know a spell to keep the water warm, but it doesn’t matter because I couldn’t cast it properly anyway. 

Getting him back up on his feet takes some effort, even with his help, and I’m pretty sure I’ve pulled something. I give him a towel and sit him on the toilet seat. I don’t think he can stay upright anymore and I’m not putting him on the ground again. “I’m going to get you some clothes,” I say. He nods, sparing me a tired glance.

I find some on his side of the room, folded neatly in one of his draws. Everything is ordered so perfectly, I’m sure it's been done with magic. It all looks expensive, but I settle on a pair of sleeping trousers and shirt. I grab him a pair of boxes too.

He’s still upright when I come back, which is good, and he seems determined to keep it that way. I want to give him privacy, to change. But I also don’t want him to fall. “I can go, if you want?” I offer.

He takes the clothes from me, “it’s fine.”

I nod, turning my back.

He ends up needing help. When we're done, after some struggling, he looks defeated. I wrap an arm around him and help him to his bed. He collapses on it almost immediately, and I would think him asleep if I hadn’t spent most of the last eight years trying to figure out the nature of his sleeping patterns. 

I don’t want to leave, in case he’s taken away again. I don’t think he will be, but I didn’t think the Mage could do what he has either. I want to stay with him.

But both of us have to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos/spelling errors, etc. I wrote this at 1 am. I'll do my best to fix up any mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Sorry for any errors/mistakes. I post these late so I'll do my best to correct them ASAP.
> 
> WARNING: Mentions/references to suicide.

**Baz**

The bed is warm, and the relief of being able to lie down somewhere comfortable almost distracts from how much everything hurts; how hungry I am. _Almost_. It's consuming me, that horrible need. But I can’t satisfy it. Perhaps it’s a good thing; Simon is far too close for how hungry I am. He’s standing near the bed, watching me like he always does, and pretending that he isn’t. I _will not_ hurt him; I vowed it. He had said I needn’t have done so, because he trusted me. That I wasn’t like the others. I’m not so sure.

How long can a Vampire last without blood? I don’t know- I hunger after a day, and I’ve never gone without it long enough to find out _just how_ desperate I’d need to be. To hurt someone. To lose control. I’d put an end to myself before I let that happen.

I don’t ever want to hurt Simon. But right now I fear that eventually I will. I’m just so _hungry, _and I doubt the loss of my fangs will stop the need to hunt. If I lose control, I don’t think that part of me will care that I don’t have the means to drink. I will still want to hunt.

_I might hurt Simon. _

I think I’d rather die.

* * *

**Simon**

I can’t walk away. He’s curled up on his side, away from me, and I really don’t want to leave. I don’t know if it’s a stupid thing to think or not. Baz will be fine while I get us food, the Mage doesn’t have a reason to come back. Does he? Classes haven’t started yet, so Baz hasn’t done anything wrong that would warrant his appearance. It’s just breakfast. Nothing will happen.

_Something did happen, and you weren’t there to stop it._

I can’t ask anyone else to be here without leaving myself, and I can’t get to food without leaving either. But I don’t really have a choice; he's going to die if I don't.

He’s still turned away from me, so I brush his hair back gently. “I’m going to get us something to eat,” I say. “I’ll be back soon.”

I don’t expect him to respond, but he does. A small nod. It’s enough.

I leave.

* * *

**Baz**

He’s leaving. I don’t want him to go, but I’m also a little relieved when he does. I can’t hurt him if he’s not here. He said he was going to get us food; I don’t know why. Food won’t do anything, but I love him for trying.

I want him near, but also so very far away.

* * *

**Simon**

I must be late, because the breakfast hall is already filling. I can’t see the Mage. I don’t like that, but he’s almost never here, so it doesn’t mean he’s gone to Baz. I’m not nearly calm enough to do this. I try to act normal, walking up to the tables like I do every day. This only makes me seem like something is not normal; that something is wrong.

I stop, and instead focus on finding Penny.

She’s sitting in our usual spot, and she seems surprised I’m late. I’m never late for breakfast. She moves aside, making room for me, and already some raspberry scones have appeared on the table. I don’t want them.

I probably should have taken them anyway, because Penny is looking at me funny.

“Simon?” she asks, forehead furrowed, “are you unwell?”

I take the scones, “I’m fine.”

She’s probably already thinking of a dozen healing spells to use on me. _Maybe they will work on Baz? _I’ll have to wait until we're somewhere else to ask; Baz already disappeared for six weeks at the beginning of the year, so he can’t afford any more suspicion.

In terms of food, I've got an idea. If it works, I’m going to be the one worrying about suspicion. I focus my will on the table anyway. Baz _needs _this to work. He needs it so badly he will die if he doesn’t, and that’s got to be enough. I’m also the Mage’s heir, ‘The Chosen One’. The prophesied defeater of the Insidious Humdrum.

It’s hard not to notice favouritism when you’ve got the best room, the best food, and once, the best position on the team. Not a good enough player for that anymore; if I was on the team some eyebrows would be raised at the Mage.

I focus my will.

Nothing happens.

I frown, the tables always produced what I want to eat, right from the first moment I sat down at it. It’s never been wrong, even if I thought it wan- I probably do want the scones now that I think about it.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want it for myself? I want it for Baz though, I want him to live. I _need_ him to live. So badly. I tighten my fists, trying to will the blood into existence. Come on, you stupid table, don’t you let Baz die. Don’t you _dare._

Nothing, again.

I let my head collapse into my arms. Fuck.

“Simon, you can’t _possibly_ want to eat that.”

_Eat…_

_Oh! _

I look up. There’s something on the table.

It’s not blood.

But it might just do.

I smile, feeling happier than a steak that rare has any right to make me feel. I’m not even sure if it's cooked. I whisper a thank you to the table. Not fully controlled by the Mage then- that’s got to count for something. It couldn’t give Baz blood, so it got the next best thing.

Penny wrinkles her nose, “you’re disgusting, Simon.”

I force a smile, picking up the plate and my scones. “That’s why you love me, Bunce.” It’s been too long already; I need to get back.

She rolls her eyes, “where are even going with that? You’re not supposed to take food out of the hall.”

“I forgot something in my room and don’t have time to come back, “ I lie, “don’t worry about it.”

She’s worrying, I can tell. I want to reassure her, but I want to get back to Baz more. She’s also looking at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“See you in Magical Words?” I offer.

She stares at me a little longer, calculating. Eventually, she nods, “yeah, see you then.”

I won’t see her though; I’m not going. Neither is Baz.

Her eyes trail me as I leave the hall, along with a few others. To them, it’s just another ‘normal’ day for the Chosen One. I don’t think I’ve had a normal day in my life. The reality of near-constant mortal danger became my normal the day I met the Mage. I had always thought Baz would be the one to kill me, or me him. I think maybe he still will, in a whole different way.

* * *

**Baz**

I smell it before he’s even opened the door. _Blood. _It’s not strong, barely there at all. So there can’t be much of it, or be from anything still alive.

For a moment I think my fangs have dropped, but then I remember. I don’t know how I forgot.

It smells so good.

I turn my head and see what he’s brought. I feel my love for him grow stronger, if possible. _Merlin,_ he can be clever sometimes. The steak won’t sustain me, as my parents had learnt as when I was a child, but I won’t be hurting anyone for now. I won’t be hurting _Simon_, and that’s all that matters right now.

Until I can gain the strength to deal with that potentiality myself.

He helps me sit up, piling some pillows behind me. He cuts the meat for me; I’m too weak to do even that myself, and that’s a different kind of torture. My fangs would be out by now, so close to food. I almost think they are, again.

It strange, to feel them grow when there not there at all. To _think_ they’ve grown, more accurately. Almost a muscle memory. I had never wanted them, but they took them and they were _mine. _And it had _hurt. _So very much. I don’t think it’s going to stop.

My jaw feels like it’s being drilled with nails every time I chew. Simon sits beside me, encouraging me, but I don’t think he knows I’m in pain. I almost never eat in front of anyone, and he knows it. In part, it was to hide my secret, but so much more because they brought me shame, embarrassed me. I’m a monster.

They’re not even there and I don’t think anything’s changed.

But its Simon sitting beside me. He’s seen it all before. He’s still_ here._

* * *

**Simon**

Baz is good at hiding that he’s in pain. I see it, and I know he doesn’t want me too. I reassure him gently that he’s doing well. I can’t ignore his pain. I reckon it probably hurts him more to eat than it does to talk. When he’s done there’s sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hair has fallen over his eyes. His jaw looks like a mess of black and blue. I want to take his pain away.

I don’t know how to do that, so I take the empty plate away instead, putting in the bathroom sink to deal with later. Penny was right, you’re not supposed to bring food out of the hall, for good reason.

I sit back down beside him; I’m not sure if he looks stronger or not, but he’s keeping his eyes open. That’s got to be something, right? “Any better?” I ask

He nods, “yes.”

* * *

**Baz**

It’s a lie. But Simon looks happy. Not, beaming and jumping for joy with a wide toothy grin. Just, _happy_. I don’t want to take that away.

* * *

**Simon**

I know he’s lying, but I smile anyway, brushing the hair out of his face. I let my hand trail down to his jaw, and I hold it gently. His eyes have so much damn trust in them, but he’s shaking again and I decide that I hate the Mage. He did this, and I hate him so intensely that I need to love Baz even more. I do. I love him,_ so much._

I lean forward and kiss him, still holding his jaw.

He kisses me back, for a moment. Then his whole body seems to tense and he’s pulling away before I can think why. My hand falls away too, and I’m suddenly afraid to touch him. His face has changed into panic.

He tries to hide it almost as fast as it arrived. Only his eyes stay the same. “Sorry, I …I don’t know why-“ He leans forward again, like he thinks he needs to kiss me.

I don’t let him, and he seems surprised. “Hey, it’s okay,” I reassure, pressing my forehead against his, “s’okay.” 

He starts to cry.

I pull us both down onto the bed and curl up beside him. He moves closer, taking ahold of my shirt. I want to reassure him with more than just an ‘it’s okay’ we both know isn’t true. I wrap my arm around his waist and hold him. “I love you,” I whisper. It’s the truest thing I know.

That only seems to make him cry more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Sidenote, rare steak doesn't actually contain blood, but we're going to ignore that. It does contain iron though, so close enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Carry On or any of Rainbow Rowell's stories.
> 
> A/N  
Thanks for all your amazing reviews!

**Simon**

He’s sleeping. He rolled over a while ago, his back to me. My arm hasn’t left his waist. He’s only been asleep this way for maybe an hour, but any sleep is better than none.

I haven’t slept; I don’t think I can right now. I can see its still daylight through the windows anyway. Baz hasn’t asked me to close them, and that’s almost as bad as me not feeling like scones. They’re still sitting on my bed, the scones. They're probably cold now. Doesn’t matter, I’m not going to move to get them- I’d probably wake Baz. I also don’t want to move away from him.

Yes, the scones can wait.

But then someone knocks on the door.

Baz freezes beside me, his whole body turning rigid.

I’m ready to kill whoever’s responsible for waking him up- but then I notice that Baz is scared. No, he’s petrified. _Fuck_. I tighten my arm around his waist and pull myself closer. I don’t care if it’s the Mage, I’m not letting-

“Simon, are you in there?”

Penny.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Just Penny.

I press a kiss to the back of Baz’s shoulder, getting up from the bed. I still don’t know how Penny gets into the Mummer’s building, but I’m glad she can. I open the door, “Penny, whats-“

She cuts me off almost immediately, “Simon you said you would be in class; you didn’t come to any all day, and you were acting strange at-“ She stops, looking past me.

I follow her gaze to the pile of bloody clothes that are still in the corner, and then to Baz. It’s only just occurred to me how bad it looks.

She looks back to me, eyes wide. “Simon, did he _bite _someone?”

“No, he hasn’t done anything, Penny. I promise.” I step forward so I’m in blocking her view. “Look,” I say, trying to close the door so Baz can’t hear, “can we talk outside?”

“It’s fine, Simon.”

_Stupid vampire super hearing. _

I let the door fall open; he’s sitting up, which is good, but he still looks weak. “Baz…”

“I said it's fine,” he barks, grimacing from the effort.

I don’t think it’s fine.

But I let Penny in anyway, and she sits down on my bed, moving the scones out of the way.

* * *

**Baz**

I’d thought it was him. _The Mage_. Simon must have too, because his magic started pouring out of him and surrounding us as soon as I woke. I don’t know if he even realised he was doing it. I thought he was going to go off. Blow the whole room up.

But he didn’t- it was only Bunce.

The magic is still around me as he talks to her, just less _chaotic_. More stagnant. It spikes a little when he explains what’s happened, like it does when he’s angry. Not long ago, I wouldn’t have believed that Simon would ever get angry _for _me.

Bunce is listening intently, trying to keep her face neutral, so it’s hard to miss when her eyes flicker to me. I think they look sorry.

When Simon’s done talking, Bunce gets up from the bed and approaches me purposefully- and Simon lets her. I wasn’t sure if he would; once he feels the need to protect, he can get a little insistent.

She sits on the side of the bed and studies me. Even after the steak I know I’m not healing. I would need to feed properly to do that. Still, she raises her arm and points her ring at my jaw.

“**Get Well Soon**”, she casts.

Nothing.

She frowns, “**Early to Bed and Early to Rise.”**

Still nothing.

My jaw still aches, and my bruises are still swollen and angry. My fangs are still gone.

She squints her eyes, looking a little lost. Bunce’s spells always work. She’s powerful. The thing she most defines herself by is failing her. I think I understand.

“I could try a reversal spell,” she offers.

“_No_,” Simon says, unfolding his arms. “It’s too dangerous, Penny. Even for you.”

There he goes. I didn’t think his ‘standing back’ would last.

Bunce looks to me, a question in her eyes. “He’s right,” I say, meeting her eye. “It’s not that I don’t trust your magical ability, Bunce. But that kind of magic is unpredictable.” It’s the most words I’ve managed all day. _Crowley_, it hurts.

She frowns, standing up again, “I don’t understand why the spells aren’t _working_.”

“I’m a vampire, Penny.”

She rolls her eyes, “I know that, you numpty. It doesn’t explain why they’re not working. You’re a human mage first, they should still work-“ She pauses, “why aren’t you healing yourself?”

“I haven’t fed.”

Simon steps forward, “he had a steak-“

Bunce points at him triumphantly, “I _knew_ you weren’t going to eat that!”

I resist the urge to roll my own eyes, “yes, well. It’s keeping me going, for now.” _Barely. _“It won’t last.”

Bunce nods, “which is why you need to feed.”

_I cant. _

Simon’s eyes flicker to me, “Penny-”

She turns on him, fierce. “Ju_st wait,_ Simon. Let me finish.”

Bunce can be quite terrifying sometimes; I’ve never seen anyone other than myself manage to get Simon to shut up so efficiently.

“Baz,” she says, turning back to me, “where do you normally feed.”

I frown, “does it matter?” _Doesn’t she understand? I cant-_

“_Yes. _It matters, Baz,” she says, “of course it matters.”

I don’t really want to say- I haven’t even told Simon where I go. I expect he knows anyway; he’s probably followed me on more than one occasion. I still don’t want to say; the less people that know the better-not that ill be using them anymore. It’s only a matter of time, and the sooner they acc-

“Please, Baz.”

_Stupid fucking Simon Snow, with his blonde curls and blue eyes and his stupidly warm body and- Fuck. Alright, fine. _“The Catacombs,” I say, “…rats.”

Simon looks at me, and I can’t tell if he’s sympathetic of sickened. Maybe both.

“Baz,” he says quietly, “you’ve been living off rats this whole time?”

I won’t have Simon bloody Snow look down on me for what I’ve had to do to keep myself from becoming a monster. “What would you have me do, drink Mrs Ogbits cat?” I sneer, and It feels like my cheeks have been ripped open. I ignore it- “Maybe have a sip of Agatha while I’m at it- ”

“_Baz!”_

I stop. Simon’s gone dead still. He looks …_sad? _ I'd expected disappointment. 

He sits down on the bed, “I don’t blame you, Baz. I meant that I’m sorry that what you’ve had to do. It can’t have been…pleasant.”

“It’s never pleasant.” I feel something cool run down my chin, and then my neck. Simon’s gone pale. _Oh._ I reach up; I’m bleeding again. _Shit._

Penny hands Simon some old rag- maybe some of my shirt? Whatever it is, Simons using it to clean the blood away- I don’t think he’s going to be able to stop anytime soon. He holds it under my mouth anyway.

“S’rry,” I mumble. For the blood or my temper, I’m not sure. I’m just sorry, and tired. This all feels like a lot more than one day. Merlin, it’s only been a _day. I’m already so hungry. _I feel my eyes grow heavy; I really want to lie down again.

Simons seems to soften, “you’re going to have to quit yelling at me until your mouth heal up.”

I try to ignore that I can taste my own blood again, and that I can't really see Simon anymore, “don’t count on it.”

“Cous’ not.”

* * *

**Penelope**

I don’t really know what I just watched- I knew they had a truce going, and even I had started to trust Baz. But this? This goes beyond a truce. Somethings changed between them, and I’m not sure how I haven’t noticed. Why Baz? 

Simon was never this tender with Agatha. He loved her, but I don’t think he _loved _her. Just expected too. I don’t think she’d ever really loved him either. She seems lighter now, when I see her in the hallways. Like she doesn’t have to pretend anymore. I thought they’d broken up after Simon saw her in the forest with Baz- was it the other way round?

None of that matters right now anyway, Baz is the priority. He’s told us where he hunted- that was the first step. Now we need to get him some blood, and fast. He can’t survive on raw steak forever. He’s passed out just now. Or fallen asleep. Likely the former. 

“Simon,” I say, “one of us needs to …find something.“

He helps Baz lie back onto the bed, the bleeding having finally stopped, “I know.” He’s picked up his sword, and a thermos.

“Are you…”

He nods, already moving to the door, “yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos/spelling errors, etc. I'll do my best to fix up any mistakes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
Sorry, this one took a little longer to write. It' was going to be long but I decided to split it into two shorter ones. 
> 
> Also, we're just going to pretend that Simon has never really been in the catacombs. He's still, explored the school, but he doesn't like going down there. Maybe he's afraid of the rats? -I know that Baz hunts in the woods as well, but I wanted to focus on the catacombs.

**Simon**

Penny’s watching him. It’s fine.

I keep repeating it to myself every time the Mummers House gets a little further out of view. _Penny’s watching him. It’s fine. _

I don’t know how Baz did this every night. It’s so dark, and the buildings cast shadows against the moonlight wherever you look. The White chapel is in the centre of the school, the Catacombs hidden beneath. I’ve been there a few times, in my first and second years. I think I followed Baz once in my fifth year, but I hadn’t the guts to go down into the tombs after him.

I’ve got to now, for Baz.

So I do; it’s cold and dark, and I can’t see a damn thing. I can hear them though. The rats. Their little claws scratch around on the stone, alert but not frantic. I feel one run over my shoe and I almost leave right then. _Come on,_ I think. _Keep it together, Baz needs you. _He needs me to get him the blood- but I can’t bloody see them. I could just start swinging wildly and hope for the best, it sounds like there’s enough of them for it.

_How are you going to collect the blood then, idiot?_

I’m going to have to catch one. Or several. I _really _don’t know how Baz did it; though he could probably see a lot better down here, I think. He never talks much about that kind of stuff. Fuck it, though. I’m not running around in the dark grasping at nothing. I point my wand into the darkness, “**Let there be light.”**

Something sparks, and then what looks like a wave of light erupts through the catacombs, I still can’t see a thing because it’s so damn bright. At least nothing’s on fire this time. The rats are frantic like there is though. There must have been a ton because as the light fades I can hear hundreds of them running down tunnels, deeper into the tombs. Away from me.

Shit. It’s probably even darker down there. Maybe I should cast a revealing spell?

No, I already know where they are.

I lift my wand again, it’s a long shot but I’ve got to try something. **“Your Attention Please!” **I can’t summon them; you’re not supposed to be able to summon anything. _The Humdrum did._ But I can't. The spells suppose to bring nearby people’s attention to you. The rats aren’t people, or nearby. It shouldn’t work.

But my magic has never followed the rules. It’s like when you try to pour a small glass but end up pouring the whole bottle. Always more than you need, and more than you intended. I could cast a spell to clean a spoon and end up erasing all the words inside the classroom books, and those on the chalkboard.

I’d cleaned the spoon though.

And the rats are coming back.

Merlin, I hate the sound. It’s all scurrying and high-pitched squealing. I don’t get why people want them as pets. My eyes have adjusted a bit now, and I can see them. I recoil; they’re _huge. _Giant grey bodies with little shiny eyes.

I just need a few, and then I can leave. Enough to fill the thermos. I can come back for more; I’m going to have to tomorrow anyway. And the day after that and so forth. I don’t want to, but the reality is neither had Baz.

So ’ll do this until the end of time, if Baz needs me to.

I summon my sword ack to my side again …maybe I should think about acquiring a knife? A sword seems a bit …overkill. Should I shrink the sword? With my luck it will end up the size of a cheese knife. The Mage wouldn’t approve- do I still care? I’m not sure. I don’t know what I’m thinking right now, about him. I hate him. I hate him more than I do the Humdrum. More than I hated Baz. _You never hated Baz._

No, I suppose I hadn’t.

Did I ever love the Mage? Do I still? He’s like, I don’t know, a mentor or something. The first magical person I ever spoke to. Like something out of a Robin Hood film crossed with Lord of the Rings. Unimaginable. I hadn’t thought he could do just that. The bad kind of unimaginable. Maybe he thinks he was doing the right thing- he wasn’t. Merlin, he wasn’t. But I can’t think of the Mage being capable of doing something like that with malicious intent.

_But he hurt Baz. _

I don’t want to think about this anymore; I need to get the rats.

Crouching, I put my sword on the ground to open the thermos so it's ready.

Now I just need to wait.

* * *

**Baz**

Bunce won’t stop pacing. I came back to myself only moments ago and already it’s the only thing I’m aware of. Back and forth and back and forth. My bed to Simons, Simons to mine. She _does not_ walk quietly.

“Bunce, will you _stop_ that incessant pacing.”

She does, but she’s staring at me now. I want her to go back to the pacing.

“You’re awake,” she says, suddenly at my side.

I turn over and face her, Simon’s left the room again. I think I remember that? Or hearing it. I’m not sure. “Simon?” I ask.

“He left to get you something to drink, he’ll be back soon.”

_Drink. _I doubt Simon’s coming back with cider and brandy. “Shouldn’t be down there,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks pull, “not safe.”

Bunce holds her ring up to something I think is a cloth and murmurs. She presses it to my cheek. It’s cold, really cold. I think it might be helping.

“A bunch of rats aren’t enough to hurt Simon, he will manage.” She adjusts the cloth, almost smiling, “besides, he’s survived you long enough.”

I want to smile too, but it will probably hurt. There’s also a lot more than a ‘just a bunch of rats’_. _Those tunnels go on for miles; even I haven’t explored them all. I know some of them don’t lead anywhere good. Watford’s full of hidden doors and rooms and secrets. Simon’s made his mission to find them all. He hasn’t.

But he’s curious, and the Catacombs are full of curiosities.

* * *

**Simon**

I’ve got one. It’s squirming in my hand, screeching. The others are too transfixed from my spell to care. How do I do this? If I use my sword it may squirm and I’ll lose the one thing I came down here for. I don’t really want to kill it either, while it’s so helpless. I’ve got to though.

I hold it by the tail and bring it down onto the stone, hard. It stops screeching. At least it won’t feel it. I hold it over the thermos and run the end of my blade over its tiny throat. I can’t see it, but I can hear blood hitting metal. A steady rhythm of taps. Shit, there’s barely any of it. How much does Baz need? I’m not even sure he knows.

I decide I’m not leaving until the thermos is full.

-v---v-

It took twelve. The smell of death is stuck in my nose, but thank _Merlin; _I can get the hell out of here. Screwing the lid on, I get up from the cold floor, blood on my jeans and hands. I’ll clean everything up later. I’m too afraid I'll make the blood disappear if I try now. I do have to cast a spell though, for the rats. My spell was so strong I’m sure they will follow me back up the stairs and through the chapel.

“**There’s Nothing to See Here,” **I cast.

The rats are gone before I can blink, running in terror. They probably saw. One of them runs past a discarded bench, the wood well rotten- was that door always there?

I don’t- I don’t think it was. Maybe I’d just missed it earlier, before my eyes adjusted. Yeah, that’s probably it. It’s very easy to miss a solid gold door illuminated with torches, in the dark.

I wonder where it goes?

* * *

**Penelope**

He’s sitting up again, fidgeting with the sheets. Simon’s taking a while. Not long enough for worry, not yet. If I need to, I’ll go after him; I’ll make sure Baz has his wand. I’m also getting hungry, which makes me feel selfish. Baz is the one who is hungry. Besides, I know Simon’s probably got food stashed away in here somewhere.

I find a bag of crisps under the bed, half-eaten. They’re probably a bit stale, but I take them anyway. I offer them to Baz first, but he shakes his head. I don’t blame him.

“It won’t work,” he says, when I'm done.

He’s looking at the door, face blank. I think the ice did a little to help the bruising. “Why not?” I ask, spelling the empty chip bag into a bin. _Does he know something? _

“I cant- It won’t do anything without my fangs.”

I frown; it’s not an encouraging idea. “How do you know?”

He grimaces, and I think he looks ashamed. “In the cell, I- I’d bled so much, Bunce. I was desperate.”

_Oh. _I swallow, “perhaps it didn’t work because it was your own?”

He says nothing to that.

“You’ve got to try, Baz. Then we’ll know.” _We'll know If you’re going to starve. _I think he’s already decided that he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Fun facts I had to figure out while writing the rat scene. 
> 
> I'm assuming that an adult male vampire has to drink about the same amount of blood in a day as a human would with water, about 3.7 litres. 
> 
> We know from Carry On that Baz drinks around 6 rats when he hunts in the Catacombs. We also know that from Wayward Son (Spoilers) he has also been unintentionally starving himself, (hence the six rats). The average rat apparently has 25.7 mils of blood, so Baz is probably only drinking 154.2ml of blood a day (6 rats), 4.17% of 3 litres. Simon needs to drain around 40 rats to fill the thermos. 
> 
> If baz needed to drink the amount of blood a person needs in their body (around 5 litres), he's only drinking 3% of what he should be. OUR BOI IS THIRSTY. 
> 
> A deer has around 5 litres of blood in it, so we KNOW he can drink that much.
> 
> According to some theories (they exist, which is hilarious-look it up)- a vampire would need to drink 55 litres of blood a day O_O
> 
> LUCKILY 
> 
> Watford is magic, so I'm going to make it so that the rats are 3 times the average size because magic. So, with around 77ml of blood, Simon 'only' needs to catch around 13.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
Longer chapter this time. Sorry for any typos/silly mistakes. I wanted to post it to keep up a routine, so I did at 3 AM or so. I'll do my best to correct any errors.

**Simon**

Usually when I come across hidden doors, I’ve got to do something to unlock it. A drop of blood, a series of riddles or a magic key. This one just opens, like it was expecting me. Is there something else down there? When I step through it closes behind me. I’m not surprised, they almost always do. At least I can see; the tunnel is lit with a torch every so often. There doesn’t seem to be any rats either, which is an improvement.

I follow the torches. The tunnel doesn’t seem to turn or dip, so I don’t know where it’s going. I almost feel like I’m walking on the spot, with no end in sight. I really should get back to-

There’s another door.

It’s wooden, rotted and very old. I open it.

It’s dark. I could hold my hand up to my face and not see a thing. I don’t really want to go in- but when I turn I’m faced with more darkness. The tunnel has disappeared. _Or the torches just went out and I’m an idiot?_ I’m almost stupid enough to believe that.

I turn back around, to the room. There’s a light.

It’s small, like a candle. Actually that’s probably what it is. As I get closer I can see that’s its sitting on a table, almost out. Ominous. I’ve still got my sword, so I’m not too worried yet. I put the thermos down and take the candle. I need to see. 

Something makes a noise.

I whip around, candle outstretched. The _thing _leaps back like it’s been slapped.

No.

Not a thing.

Baz?

I take a step forward so I can see him better; how did he even get down here? “Baz, what-” I freeze.

His eyes. _They’re gone. _

Baz goes still, “Simon?”

Do I move? He can’t see me- no, _it. _This thing can’t be Baz, its thin and weak, like the only thing holding it up is bones. The skin on its face is so drawn that it looks like a skull; it can’t be Baz. This couldn’t have happened in such a short amount of time-

How long have I been down here for?

I don’t really know.

No. _NO. _I couldn't have been gone for more than two hours; that thing isn’t Baz. It cant be.

It steps towards me, and I think it looks scared. “Simon, _please,” _it cries, “are you here? I can’t- I can’t see you.”

“I’m here.”

It slips out of me before I can think. It sounds like him, and still looks like him, and it hurts to hear him plead. I reach out and take his hand. They’re so very thin.

A sob escapes him, “_Simon.”_

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _

I don’t let go, “it’s me, I got you.”

The fake-Baz starts shaking, “I’m so _hungry, _Simon.”

_Is he going to bite me? _No, he can't. I would have seen them by now. He’s so thin. I swallow, “when was the last time you fed?”

Another sob rakes his body, “I don’t know- It’s been so long. I’ve been down here so long.”

In a moment of terror I think that maybe this is the real Baz, the one that went missing, and I’ve got the fake. No- If that were true, this one wouldn’t be missing its fangs, wouldn’t it?

“Simon, please,” it whispers, voice shaky. “Please, help me.”

It’s not him. I know it’s not him. Baz is safe, Penny’s watching him. It isn’t real.

But I still want to help him.

I squeeze his hand, “how, Baz?”

His head turns to the candle for a moment, and the glow of it makes the hollowness of his eyes stand out more. I don’t like fire being this close to him. His expression is desperate, “_please.” _

He wants to burn.

My voice cracks, "no- _No,_ I’m not doing that, Baz.” 

_It’s not Baz._

“I’m already dying Simon. Slowly, and it _hurts.” _His voice breaks, “I want you to stop it, please.”

The candle seems brighter than before, and I think he’s getting thinner. “Baz-“

Even without eyes, and through his tears, Baz’s expression is firm. “If you want to save me, Simon, this is how you do it.”

-v---v-

I’m kneeling. In ash, in dust and- _Oh God, Baz. _I can’t find the space to breathe through my sobs, or the will to look. If I open my eyes it might be real. _It’s not. It’s not. It’s not._ It didn’t happen. _But it might._

It wasn’t him, but nothing about it felt like a lie. An illusion. The fire had felt so hot against my skin, and the _smell. _The sound was worse; his screams. He was _burning._ And I did it.

I don’t want to open my eyes.

I do.

The room is gone. So is Baz, and the hallway and the door. It’s all gone. There’s stone, and darkness, and _rats. _The Catacombs.

The thermos is beside me; I check it. Still full. I draw a shaky breath and press my face into my hand. _It’s fine. Baz is alive, and Penny is watching him. _

I’m not fine.

* * *

**Baz**

He’s taking a while, and even Bunce is on edge. I suppose he doesn’t have much experience in catching rats, which might account for it. Something feels wrong though. I’m about to mention it to Bunce when Simon all but throws the door of its hinges. I Jump; there’s nothing I can to help it.

Bunce shoots up to her feet, her expression fierce, “what in Morgan Le Fray’s name took you so long! You’ve been gone for _hours._”

Simon doesn’t even look at her; he’s not really looking at anything. He’s just standing there, shaking, and vibrating with magic. It’s hot, and angry, like it always is. It’s also very scared. I try to find his attention, “Simon? Love, what’s the matter?”

He’s looking at me now like he had that night, when the fire was out. “Simon?” I ask again, scared.

As soon as I say it his face crumbles, and he closes the space between the door and me. I pull him onto the bed, and he latches onto me, like I had him only hours earlier. I think I see Bunce put something on the side table, before slipping out of the room. I bring my arms around him, “Simon, what… did you see something?” I know where many of those tunnels lead.

Simon nods into my chest before pulling away. He’s wiping his eyes, “I- no, I just- It’s very dark down there.”

I don’t think he realises how bad his lie is, but I nod, pulling him back to me, “it is.” I think I know where he went- he’s always so curious. I run a hand through his curls, I’ve been there too, wherever it is. I saw myself drain Simon Snow dry of blood and drop his body on the cold floor. It wasn't real; I won't allow it to be. I don’t know who’s holding who together anymore, but I feel Simon’s magic start to still, rippling slowly. He pulls back suddenly, but not so far that I have to let go.

“I got you something to drink,” he says, looking around the room in a slight panic.

I reach over to the side table, finding the thermos. “It’s right here, numpty. Don’t worry.”

The weight of it shocks me, it feels full. _How many did he drain? _It’s almost more than I would drink in two days. It would be a good thing, if it would work. I’ll try though, as to not waste Simon’s effort. He crawls over me gently, getting to his feet. I raise an eyebrow as he extends a hand.

He falters, eyes still red with tears, “I just thought you wouldn’t want to spill it on your bed?”

“Not an infant, Simon,” I reply, taking his hand anyway. He pulls me up, his other hand on my shoulder. My legs almost collapse the second I stand, but Simon steadies me. He guides me back to the bathroom, and I’m surprised I can’t see any blood. Bunce’s magic, likely. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; it’s not good. My jaw is the worst. I'm not sure if Simons still thinks I can't see my reflection.

He sits me down again, placing the thermos beside me on the bathtub. He fidgets, shifting his weight around; not making any move to leave. “Do you want me to…”

“No.”

He doesn’t argue, for once, but turns quietly and leaves.

The thermos stays where it is, a silent taunting. It’s not going to work, but Simon’s expecting me to try. I take it, unscrewing the lid; the smell is almost overwhelming. It's almost shameful how provoked I was by the steak earlier. I feel the need for my fangs to drop again, the anticipation it brings to my gums. Nothing happens, but I’m almost salivating like a dog. Fucking disgusting. The blood looks thick, like it’s starting to clot. Perhaps I shouldn’t have opened the lid. The human part of me can’t really stand the sight of it, but _I need it. _I need it so badly.

I lift it to my lips and drink. It’s a bit different without fangs, messier. Less control. It tastes familiar. Not good, but _Crowley,_ I can’t stop. After the first taste I’m frantic to down it all, animalistically so. It’s only slightly warm, and it’s definitely thickened, but it goes down. It’s more than I’ve drunk in a long while. Some of it ends up on my shirt, and a bit on the floor. My hands are stained with it too. But It’s down.

Doesn't mean it's going to work.

* * *

**Simon**

Bunce came back a few minutes after I leave Baz to feed. She’d changed, and brought a whole platter of food. Baz’s bloody clothes have also mysteriously disappeared. I don’t dare to ask where she got a whole platter.She tried to throw my scones away, but I insisted. The one I bit into was a bit dry, but I was determined so I ate the lot. She doesn’t ask me about earlier, which I’m grateful for. I’ll probably explain later though, when I’ve had time to think. She might know what it was I found.

I had tried not to think about my own hunger all day; it didn’t seem fair to Baz.

“The Mage wanted him to go to classes today,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. It's the first full sentence I've said since she came back.

Penny scowls, “that’s absolutely _ridiculous._”

I nod, “I know.”

“Simon, something isn’t right. He’s been targeting the old families for a while, specifically the Pitches, but _this. _There must be something else going on that Baz is somehow a part of.”

I want to deny it, say that the Mage is right in his raids of the old families. That’s he’s trying to do what he thinks is right, but what he’s done isn’t right. It was torture. A death sentence. “...Baz’s mum hated vampires,” I whisper. It's not new information, but it's well known. Maybe the Mage might have wanted to act on it.

Penny shakes her head, “she loved Baz. He was just a baby, we can’t know what she would have done.”

_My Rosebud Boy. _I shiver, remembering Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s cold ghostly form. “I saw her, Penny,” I say.

She stops eating, “saw who?”

“His mum, when the veil lifted; Baz was still missing. She wanted us to find Nicodemus. Apparently he knows who killed her. That’s what Baz and I were doing all Christmas, trying to find him."

She stares at me, “_Natasha_ visited you?”

“Well, yeah. It was supposed to be Baz, but-“

“Simon don’t you know what this _means,”_ she whispers.

I frown, “what?”

She leans forward to whisper, “think Simon, Baz was kidnapped right around the time of the veil opening. Someone knew that Natasha would visit him and be a threat to their identity, so they needed Baz out of the way to keep themselves safe. That means the kidnapper and Natasha’s killer is likely the same person, or linked. You said yourself that you and Baz tried to figure out who it was over Christmas, then only days ago this happened, and _you_ haven’t been touched. _Think_, Simon.”

I do think, “Penny, that doesn’t mean-“

_“Listen to yourself,”_ she hisses, “The Mage is involved in it all, Simon, and we need to plan our next steps _very_ carefully.”

No. No, it’s a mistake. It's madness. The Mage isn’t alone in being wary of Vampires, and he cares about his school. I’ll _never _agree with what he did, but that doesn’t mean that he’s somehow involved in a conspiracy. “Penny, Baz’s mum was probably kil-“

The bathroom door opens.

I bolt onto my feet.

Baz is walking by himself, and though he’s covered in blood again, he looks stronger. I don’t want to be wrong though. “Is- do you feel…”

He smiles weakly, and his bruises look a little less angry, “yeah.”

I small chocked cry leaves me, and I can’t help but rush to embrace him. I don’t care about the blood. He stumbles a little from the impact, but that’s okay. He’s in my arms, and he’s not going to starve. I can feel him drooping against me though. _It’s okay. He’s just tired. Why wouldn’t he be?_

I hear our room door click close, and I realise Penny must have left again. I let my fingers tangle into his hair, “bed?”

He nods into the crook of my neck, “hmmm.”

I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep much, not after everything that is today. I’ll just hold him, talk to him, whatever he needs. Basilton Grimm-Pitch is not going to stave.

* * *

**Baz**

He’s happy, and that’s enough. I didn’t keep all of it down, but what I did has definitely made an improvement. Humans aren’t supposed to drink blood, and without my fangs... I’m not human, but my body, in part, still is. I expect it will probably take a while to adjust, so I won’t let Simon see. I never let him see anyway.

He guides me down to his bed, so I’m in between him and the wall. It’s childish, the sentiment that a mere wall will provide any protection. I love him for it though, and it does help. I don’t like tight spaces anymore, but this one is different. He’s warm, and I can move if I need with little resistance. Besides, he’s the one that’s always moving, asleep or awake. Right now he’s running his thumb gently along my bicep, and it’s nice to have something to anchor to. I hope he doesn’t stop, but he needs to sleep too.

* * *

**Simon**

I think I’m falling. Just falling, through nothing at all. Then I hit the floor with a thud. _Baz. _I get onto my knees and shuffle over to the bed and look. He’s sitting upright, chest heaving and gripping the sheets so hard I think he's going to tear them. “Baz,” I whisper.

He looks down at me, eyes foggy and a little watery, “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, climbing back up, “don’t be.” It was a strong kick, or push. I’m not sure. But it was strong. He’s sitting so tense I’m not sure if he wants me to touch him, so I sit next to him against the headboard. He leans into me, brushing our shoulders. Permission. I lean in too.

“I would have bitten you,” he says.

I frown, “what?”

“If I had my fangs, just now, I would have bitten you.”

“Nah,” I say, trying a new tactic, “you still could have bitten me, fangs or not. You didn’t, which means you wouldn’t have even if you had them.”

"Simon..."

“We should push our beds together,” I say. There has to be some logic in that. We’ll fit better that way, and there will be less chance of being pushed off.

His eyes flicker to the door, “what if the Mage sees?”

“He doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

Baz sighs, “he wants us to be enemies. He’s always wanted that.”

Enemies. You’re supposed to defeat your enemy, kill them. Not love them. Baz isn’t my enemy, he hasn’t been for a long time. I don’t think he ever was. 

_He wants us to be enemies._

I don't really care.

Baz is right in his apprehension though. I look to the door. The Mage never uses it, he just 'appears.' 

I find my resolve, getting up. "We'll push them back in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
I think the room functions as sort of the opposite to the Mirror of Erised, showing you what you fear most. Basically a bogart room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Thanks for all the amazing support everyone!  
There's still plenty more for this story to come- I honestly thought this would be a couple of chapters long but NOPE, I've got a whole story outline now.

**Simon**

We got through the night, somehow. Neither of us slept well; if one of us was asleep the other was surely awake, and any sleep felt fitful. But we slept. Pushing our beds together had definitely prevented either of us repeating the earlier incident, but it also meant that everytime Baz began to shake I had to decide whether to hold him close or let the onslaught of kicks come in case of making it worse.

We’re curled around each other now, and somehow our legs have become tangled. His head is next to mine, one arm hiding under his pillow and the other resting between us. Everything about him looks softer than usual, his hard angles gone. It makes the damage on his face harder to look at. I trace my thumb over the curve of his jaw, wanting to will the pain there away. The bruises have changed colour, the images of fingerprints having become more defined.

Their healing though, and that’s got to be something.

I kiss his cheek and untangle myself as carefully as I can, not wanting to wake him. I find my uniform and head to the bathroom, closing the door to muffle the shower. I don’t know why I’m getting ready for classes, I doubt I’ll actually go. I should make an appearance though, just to be safe.

When I get out Baz is sitting with his legs hanging over the bed, hands folded in his lap. His expression is absent and far away. “Baz?” I ask, stuffing my wand into my belt.

“I’d thought it might be different, when I woke up.”

A part of me had thought the same thing, that maybe it was a cruel joke my mind had played on me. There’s no joke. I stand in front of him, and he leans into me before I even wrap my arms around him. I press a kiss into his hair, “I’m sorry it’s not.”

He pulls away, evading my arms, “Bunce sent a bird while you were showering. She’ll be here soon.”

It’s his way of saying ‘stop with all this touchy-feely nonsense, someone might see.’ It’s a little ridiculous, given that Bunce has already seen, and probably already suspected before that. I know she doesn’t care; the only reason she’d be against it is because up until this year I was convinced His Truly was my mortal nemesis.

I let him go anyway, and watch as he tries to tidy himself up without much success. He looks drained again, his hair falling lifelessly around his face. “Do you need anything?” I ask, it hasn’t been long, but I’ll go back now if he needs it.

He shakes his head, standing up. “No, I’ll be fine.”

I go about pushing the bed back, as promised. Only now I notice how much It must have caught on the floor when I moved it last night. Socks and rags and whatever else had been forgotten about. I toss Baz’s bloodied shirt into the bathroom; had Penny magicked the other one clean? Maybe it’s caught under the bed or- “_Baz, _you can’t go back to classes yet. Change into something else.”

Baz closes the dresser draw with more strength than necessary, “not and invalid, Simon.”

I shake my head, going over to him, “no, but you need to be able to project and annunciate to cast spells.” I take the pile of school clothes from him and place them back in the draw. Right now he can barely say a sentence without doing some kind of damage to himself.

Scowling, Baz goes over to my bed and searches under one of the pillows. He produces his wand- I hadn’t even realised he’d had it last night.

Not sparing me a glance, he goes into the bathroom and points the wand purposefully at his bloodied shirt. “**Clean as a Whistle.” **

It remains bloodied. 

I rest my hand on his shoulder, “just wait another day or so; your wounds cant heal if you keep pulling them open.”

Baz doesn’t move; he feels colder. I frown, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “Baz?”

* * *

**Baz**

I can’t cast spells. _Fuck_, I’d been strong when he took my fangs. I had my magic then, I could fight. I stood a chance, and he still did it. Magic was all I had, and I don’t even have that right now. Oh Christ, how am I supposed to... If he comes back-

Simon’s in front of me, hands running up and down my arms, “Baz? Hey, it’ll just be a day or so, okay. You’re the best in the school, next to Penny. It’ll be alright.”

I can’t really look at him. I’d been kidnapped by fucking numpties in a day. The Mage had done this in a day, and I’d had my fangs and magic both times. Simon’s still got his magic, even if it does function like a nuclear bomb, and his stupid sword. I’m not even well enough to hope to count on being stronger than everyone else- I can’t even heal some fucking bruises and torn gums. This is all fucked, I’m a vampire and a mage and absolutely helpless. 

“-Baz, Baz hey. It’s okay, I can get you more blood. Then you’ll be able to heal yourself more,” he starts pulling away from me, “I’ll go now okay- _Penny_!”

* * *

**Simon**

Baz is fixated on her the moment she comes through the door, but he’s not panicking anymore. My stomach starts to wake up when I catch sight of the food she’s brought. I take the tray from her, “Penny, you’re an absolute lifesaver.”

She sits down on my bed, “people are going to start noticing if you are late to breakfast, Simon.”

Late? I look over at the alarm on the dresser. _Half-past already! _Crowley, maybe we _did_ sleep. “I’ll be there tomorrow,” I promise. I sit down on the floor with the tray, and Baz joins me, folding his legs under him neatly. She’s brought scones and a pile of strawberries, and various other pastries and bread. There’s also a blood pudding. I look over to Baz, and yep, he’s seen it too. I offer the platter to him, and he takes it immediately, along with a slice of buttered toast. I stick to my scones and strawberries.

Baz looks up at Penny, looking altogether relieved. “_Thank you.”_

Penny waves him off, “don’t mention it.”

I finish one of my scones, “Penny, how are you getting all this?”

She shrugs, “at this point, Simon, the scones are there before anyone sits down. The rest was just generally there, and I had to ask Alex Mcloud for the pudding.”

Baz pierces the pudding with his fork, “perhaps I should ask Cook Pritchard to begin serving more of these.”

I pick up a strawberry, “Penny, I don’t want to set the room on fire for obvious reasons, and Baz…”

“I’m not really up to doing spells at the moment,” he finishes.

I nod, “right, so would you be able to cast some protection spells?”

She doesn’t even blink, “of course, Simon.”

I’d be dead without Penny.

* * *

**Baz**

I’m alone. Simon and Bunce left for classes, and I’m not really sure what to do. The room is filled with enough protection spells to ward off a dragon. I’m feeling a little stronger, with both food and blood in my stomach. I should probably shower, my hair feels like I’ve dipped it in oil. I grab a change of clothes from the dresser. Discarding my pyjamas in a pile near the shirt, to be spelled clean later, I step into the shower. I can see the bloody thermos through the glass, so I turn the water on as hot as I can stand it, fogging up the view. I’m going to have to feed properly again, and soon. I didn’t keep even half of what I drank last night down, so I expect I’ll be hungrier faster than usual. The smell coming from the shirt isn’t helping either.

Washing my hair takes longer than it probably has to, but I’ve got nowhere to be and the water is nice. I have to shut it off eventually, always too soon.

I change quickly and go about drying my hair. It would all be a lot faster if I could cast a damn spell. My wand is nothing but a useless bit of ivory decorating the sink for the moment. I settle on it being 'close' to dry.

The sight of my toothbrush brings another painful reminder, one which I would like to avoid. I’d just eaten a blood pudding though. I sigh, picking up the offending brush. I usually had to have some kind of food near me if I wished to clean my fangs. I couldn’t just will them into showing up. I don’t have to now, which is probably what someone would call a silver lining; I personally hate whoever came up with such a phrase. My teeth are easy to get to, but I’ve got to be careful around my gums. They bleed like I’ve neglected them. There is a sort of hollowness that I’m beginning to feel, where my fangs must have one disappeared to. I’d never known where they’d gone before.

I put down the brush and pick up the useless ivory twig. Maybe I should try again, just to be sure. I’ve done the spell a thousand times over, it shouldn’t be a problem. I point it at the pile of clothes in the corner, focussing. “**Clean as a Whistle.” **

Nothing.

_Come on you stupid thing. _I try again, “**Clean as a Whistle.” **

The clothes are unchanged.

I’m top of the fucking class. I should be able to cast a bloody cleaning spell. I take a step closer, scowling. “**_Clean as a Whistle!_”**

I taste blood, but I don’t care.

It fucking worked.

I grab the hand towel and run it under cold water before pushing it against my gum. _It fucking worked. _I should send a bird to Simon. The one that Bunce sent was still hanging around our window last I saw.

Leaving the bathroom, I wander over to one of the windows and wind it open. There’s a breeze, which is nice, but there’s no bird. I shouldn’t have expected it to hang around anyway. I close the window again; I’ll have to keep my victory to myself for now.

“That was quite impressive.”

He got in. How the fuck did he get in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Once again, sorry for any stupid errors/mistakes. I'll clean them up as I find them. Baz is really not having a great time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> You guys I literally had to make myself some scones because I've been writing from Simon's POV so much that I got a massive craving for them. This is terrible there are too many.
> 
> Also, PrEPare fOr mOrE aNgST.

**Penelope**

I can’t believe what an insufferable idiot he is being. He just refuses to _see. _Asking him if he recalled the conversation we had last night as we left the Mummers building was enough to set him off. Well, not literally. He’s angry though, and starting to fume. I get it, in part. The Mage is Simon’s guiding pillar of greatness. A revolutionary.

I see my mother in the same way. If she did something like that to Simon …took his magic because it’s too volatile or something, I don’t think I’d be able to look her in the eye. But somehow I’d still respect her, I think. Simon still respects the Mage.

To him, the Mage can do no wrong.

Except he has, and it's cut deep.

Still, I have to press, because if I’m right… I push past his fog of anger, “Simon, please, we need to _consider_ that what I proposed is a possibility.”

He stops suddenly, the people behind us almost falling over to avoid bumping into him. I don’t know if he’s aware that we're in the middle of a hallway full of students.

“Penny, say I do, why would-“

“We can’t consider it _here,” _I hiss, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. _This boy!_

He stumbles over himself to keep up, “_Merlin_, Penny. Later than.”

I pull him into class, “yes, later.”

* * *

**Baz**

I’ve got my wand pointed as his throat the second I turn around. I can’t- I won’t allow him to make me that weak again.

He clasps his hands in front of him, unwavering. “I really wouldn’t bother with that, Mr Pitch. I’m only here to talk.”

“Get. _Out_.”

He looks to the door over his shoulder, “they are impressive spells, Mr Pitch. It can’t have been you who cast them, if that little display was anything to go by. Tell me, is Simon finally coming into his magic?”

“They are my spells.”

He hums, and starts to wander about the room, “I shall have to enquire with him.”

I keep my wand fixed on him. He’s inspecting things. Simon's things, mostly. His collection of chip wrappers by the bin, half-completed written work and unopened books. I want him to fucking _stop. _He finds the red ball that Simon pretended to throw out in first year, stuffed behind the books in his shelf. He turns it in his hand like it’s the most troubling thing in the world. “I believe we discussed that I expected you to return to your classes as normal, Mr Pitch,” he says, putting the ball on the dresser, “that there would be consequences.”

He turns to me, his face is as deceptively calm as his voice. There’s fire in his eyes though, and I think he might kill me right here. I should fight, do something. My wands still pointed at his throat, and there are a dozen spells on the tip of my tongue but Crowley, _I cant. _My hand shakes, betraying me. I’m fucking scared.

I think I see satisfaction in his eyes, before he breaks his stare to draw his wand. I take half a step back, and I realise that I’m actually terrified.

He does cast, but not at me.

My uniform rises out of the dresser, and it follows the Mages’ wand over to me. He drops the spell, and the clothes fall before me in a neat pile.

“See that it doesn’t happen again.”

He leaves.

* * *

**Simon**

It’s only the start of my second class and already I wish it was the last. Penny and I had Magic Words and Elocution first, so it’s a good thing Baz didn’t come. I struggled the whole hour, and nearly destroyed the whole classroom. _I’m sure _I pronounced ‘_A Dime a Dozen’ _correctly_. _I’d just poured too much in I guess. The whole room almost filled up with silver goblets to the point where we couldn’t move. They just kept coming. Penny says I’m just stressed. I haven’t gone off though.

Political Science means I don’t have to do any spell work, but it’s still uncomfortable. We’ve moving onto ‘public relations with magical creatures and beings’ for the semester. The Mage designed the curriculum; he believes that everyone with magic should have the right to come to Watford, pixies and mages alike. Some of the more powerful families kids don’t approve, which started to show a couple weeks back. Some of the louder students are trying to poke holes in what we’re being shown. I think that’s stupid, it’s not like he’s let in goblins and numpties. Bloody peanut gallery.

It’s also uncomfortable because ‘_dark creatures and their relation to magic and mages; vampires,’ _is written on the chalkboard.

Penny gave me a ‘told you so’ look the second we sat down. She probably thinks the Mage planned this. It’s just part of the curriculum. I don’t like it though. It feels like they’re talking about Baz. I don’t so much disagree with it though. Vampires, ordinarily, are not fun. They’re cruel, violent, and dress like they’re out of a James Bond movie. Well, so does Baz, and he_ can_ be a bit of a dick, but he’s not cruel or violent. He’s _good, _and they are not. 

I never would have believed it once.

He’s_ not_ a creature either. He’s not even a normal that has been turned, or one of the ancient ones that inspire Dracula films. He was a baby, a mage, and a victim. He didn’t choose to become one. He’s not the first mage to be bitten, as we learnt over Christmas, but he didn’t choose to become how he is like Nicodemus had. Most Mages would rather die. _He was just a baby. _Not a creature.

“-which is why after Helsing V Grimm-Pitch drove the majority of the covens from the United Kingdom in 1897, attacks have been scarce. However, some still remain. They are often hard to detect, even for mages, meaning few attacks can be predicted. If you find yourself in such a situation, it is imperative that you do whatever you can to avoid being turned, and destroy the creature…“

I kind of want to leave. Once again, she’s right, but all I can hear is Baz. I rest my head in my hands, tired. This lesson is garbage anyway. 

Penny taps me on the shoulder.

I sigh, shifting in my seat to look at her, “yeah, Pen?” 

She nods pointedly towards the front of the class, “look.”

I do, and I almost leap up from my seat.

_How did I not see him? _He definitely wasn’t there at the start, I know that, so he must have come in just now, while I was resting. The teacher is glancing at him as she talks, concerned. And why wouldn’t she be, Baz looks like he took a brick to the face. She doesn’t stop the class though, and Baz doesn’t even look up from his work. _What’s he even writing?_ Surely he knows all this, right? He doesn’t seem frantic though, likes he’s trying to copy down every word that comes of the teacher's mouth. More… _Oh! _I do that! Try to look busy when I’m actually distracted, or thinking about more important matters than the three different types of magical ink wells. Pens are a thing you know.

Or maybe’s he’s trying to catch up on something else? It’s only been a day but he hates being anything less than top of the class.

When the end of class approaches I’m just about ready to explode out of my seat to ask him what the hell he’s doing. People are starting to gather their books into their arms, writing equipment already packed ten minutes past. _Come on, _just call the end!

“-tomorrow we will continue onto were-creatures,” she says, and already everyone except Penny is on their feet and heading to the door, “remember to bring your lunar-phase compasses! Oh, and Mr Pitch, please stay back for just a moment.”

Fuck, I want to stay but I’m swept up in the stampede of the class. Once I’m out the door I wait for Penny. As she walks past me she murmurs under her breath, “later.” A reminder. Yeah, that’s fair.

I wait outside the classroom, leaning against a pillar of to the right of the door. They’re probably just talking about catch-up work, or what the hell happened to his jaw. I can’t hear over everyone’s bloody walking though, so I’ve got my wand ready. Just in case.

The second I see him come out the door I veer into his line of sight, “what the hell, Baz. You shouldn’t be-“

“Simon, he came to our room.”

My anger disappears. He- How did the spells not work? _Merlin. _I reach for his hand, “are you alright?”

He pulls away like’s he’s been burned, “for Crowley’s sake, Snow. Can we talk about this later, I need to get to Greek.”

Snow. Not Simon.

He’s gone before I get my head past that.

* * *

**Baz**

Does he even _see_ what he does sometimes? He can’t just do things like that when people are around. We’re supposed to be enemies. _The Mage _thinks were enemies. We need to keep it that way, so trying to _hold my hand_ when hordes of people are still moving to their next class isn’t exactly discreet.

The professor wouldn’t stop staring at my face the whole damn lecture. She and everyone else probably thinks it was Simon that did it. It would make sense. We’d come to brawls before, once upon a time not really that long ago, and I did tell everyone that I _had _meant to send him tumbling down the stairs.

It’s good if they suspect though, so they don’t suspect of something else.

* * *

**Simon**

I don’t see him at all for the whole day, and he’s not at dinner yet either. _Snow. Snow. Snow._ I probably shouldn’t have tried to take his hand, he doesn’t like it when there are others around, but he looked so shaken. All snappy and tense. Reaching for him when he gets like that is kind of my go-to at this point. Surrounded by fire and distraught, kiss him. Didn’t do as well on a paper, sit with him on the bed as he rants about it for an hour. Nightmare at 2 am, hold him. I don’t really think about it anymore, I just reach.

And now I’m Snow again. Fuck.

I pick at the potato mash in front of me, put off. I can’t even tell Penny about it because she went to the archives to try and ‘do some digging.’

“We saw what you did to Baz’s face.”

_What? _I turn around, and of course its Dev and Niall. Baz’s minions. Okay, they're his friends, and good ones, _but what? _They're looking at me like I’m the scum of the earth. But I would never- not even back then. I feel myself starting to fume, “you think I did that?” _A normal punch couldn’t do that much damage._

Niall shoves me, hard. “Who else then? _Bunce? _Don't lie, Snow. You’ve had it in for him the moment you set foot in this school.”

People are looking now; my magic’s starting to burn.

Niall spits at me, “you’re a fucking piece of shit, Snow.”

I bolt up from the table, knocking over several drinks, but I don’t care. If I don’t get the hell out now I’m going to go off in the bloody dinner hall and a lot more than a couple drinks are going to be knocked over. _Snow. Fucking Snow. _

I storm out of the hall, and they seem to know better than to yell after me. I’ve gone off around people before.

-v---v-

When I get back to the room Baz is already there, and he’s got his legs curled under him, reading. It looks wrong. He never curls up, he always stretches out elegantly, one leg folded over the other. I sit down on the bed and put my head in my hands. I’m fucking pissed. Not at Baz, but _fuck. _

“Breathe, Simon.”

Simon. Not Snow. Good.

I breathe.

After a moment I lift my head up to look at him, “Dev and Niall think I bashed up your jaw.”

Baz’s eyes don’t stray from his book, “and we are going to keep it that way.”

But I don’t want- “Why? It’s not true, I wouldn’t-”

“Yes, I know that. Of course I know that, but they don’t need to.” He puts the book down, and finally he looks at me, “you're too reckless, Simon. People can’t know that somethings changed, not right now.”

People cant know. There it is again.

Fuck, I hadn’t- I didn’t ask myself if I was gay until, well, Baz. Penny suggested bi, but I don’t really know. I know I love Baz, and that’s enough right now. Baz though, he’s known for a long time. His dad hadn’t seemed to approving of the idea when we met, Grimm-Pitch legacy and all, so that’s got to be a part of it.

“Penny knows,” I offer.

He squints at me for a second, before his eyes widen. “Simon, I’m not trying to hide us because I’m ashamed. I don’t want to hide at all, but I am trying to keep us safe.”

_Keep us safe? _“From who?”

He uncurls himself to sit up on the bed, eyes serious, “what do you think will happen if the Mage finds out were no longer enemies?” There’s a bite to his voice.

I shrug, “I mean, I don’t think he’ll be pleased. Considering we're supposed to …but he won’t-“

“He’ll use it against you, Simon, and he’ll have more of a reason to kill me if he believes I’m manipulating you.”

_No._ He won’t. Why the hell would he use it against me? I can still kill the humdrum without having a vampire as my mortal nemesis._ And killing Baz_? “The Mage isn’t capable of-“

“HE MUTILATED ME, SIMON!”

-v---v-

I’ve just betrayed him, I think.

It’s the first time if ever been scared of him. But it was only for a second. Fuck, He’s on his feet and staring me down; if he had fangs they’d be out right now, but behind all the fury in his eyes is hurt. Betrayal.

_Shit._

I don’t think he cares that he’s stained another shirt with blood.

_The Mage isn’t capable of that._ Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_. I fucked up. I hurt him_. _I may as well have said what happened to him meant nothing, was nothing. I just meant- Why can’t I just _think_. “Baz,” I try, “I can’t tell you how much I know that-“

“Then _why _do you keep siding with him!” 

He’s crying, and I can’t think of what to do or say to stop it.

_Reach._

Yeah, cause that worked so well last time. Room to breathe might be preferable for both of us.

Silently, I get up and go to the bathroom. I find a clean towel and bring it back, passing it to him without a word. It’s my fault he tore his gums again, so really I’ve hurt him two ways. He can’t afford to lose even a little blood, it makes him tired, drained. He looks all of those things, and I did it, and I need to fix it. I move away from him, and focus on getting out the door.

“You’re leaving?” I can feel the scowl without even seeing it.

I turn and face him, “to get you something to _eat_.”

He gets up, looking determined, “_I’ll_ go. You don’t even have the thermos.”

Fuck. He’s right. So much for a dramatic exit. I don’t think it’s safe for him to go, though. “Baz-“

Grabbing his coat, he starts heading to the door, walking right past me. “I can do it _myself_.”

I cut him off, “then I’m going with you.”

He pauses, considering. “You can’t watch.”

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Who would have thought, not one, but TWO Dracula references? If missed, I implied that Baz's great grandfather was Van Hesling. XD


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions/references to suicide.
> 
> A/N
> 
> So... trying to update during the countdown probably isn't the best idea but oh well! Here ya go!

**Baz**

We’re almost at the chapel, and I still can’t look at him. Not right now. I know he hasn’t stopped looking at me though, with his stupid sad eyes that bore into you. That’s why I can’t look at him. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he might have seen the Mage, _really _seen him. I had thought it impossible that Simon would ever really see me, but he did.

He can’t see the Mage though. He _won’t. _

Not even now.

I can feel his magic again, bristling. If I looked I think I would see the cogs in his head turning. I think he knows what he said; he’d gone so still after I screamed at him, and after a moment his face fell in self-reproach. I won’t look though. Those eyes are a damn trap, and I’m just so _angry._ I’m still holding the towel up to my mouth, it will be useful in a while anyway.

The inside of the chapel at night is always strange, its white marble catching the moonlight through the arched windows. I was surprised, the first time I came in here, that I was able to at all. There are other places I could feed now, but this is the fastest. Despite the size of the catacombs, they can't run forever. Somewhere, the tunnels will end. I know where not to go.

Simon pauses when we get to the door to the catacombs, still apparently a secret. “Do you want to borrow my sword?” he asks quietly, “for the rats.”

I sigh, indifferent, “why would I need your sword, Simon?”

He doesn’t answer me, and I can see him shifting his weight. I know what he wants to say, but won’t. I had screamed it at him, after all, my mutilation. My inability.

“I can cast a spell,” I say.

“But this morning…”

I let my wand slide out of my sleeve and I point it at the door, “**Open Sesame.” **

It opens, and I resist giving a satisfied smile. My point would have been invalid if that hadn’t worked first try. I spare Simon a small glance, “I’ll manage.”

He looks unconvinced, “you can still take my sword, so you don’t have t-“

“_I’ll manage,” _I hiss. I’m going to feed in a moment, it shouldn’t matter if I bleed a little more from speaking. I step down into the catacombs before he can argue further, spelling the door behind me. He _is not _following me.

* * *

**Simon**

I _really_ think he should have taken my sword. He doesn’t have to keep on risking injuring himself just to make a point. Sure, he can talk a little more than he could yesterday without much trouble, but I can tell he’s been holding back in volume. Sarcasm, particularly, is now exclusively monotone. I don’t like it.

Besides, my sword would likely make a cleaner cut than any spell …I probably should have grabbed the thermos, so he could take some back for later- would it last though? No, probably not. Maybe there’s a spell… I’ll have to ask Penny.

I want to follow after him, because I _know _what’s down there. He might too, I assume, maybe not what I saw, but something. He’s been doing it since first year, so he must have found something. I wouldn’t want to be down there alone; it’s _so dark._ I wouldn’t be able to see him, but I would know where he was from everything else. He would see me, I’m certain of it. He always moves around in the dark of our room so perfectly, and finds whatever he wants with ease. I moved some of his stuff around once, as a sort of experiment. I could _hear _him go to them, without any sort of fumbling.

He wouldn’t look at me the whole walk down here. Not directly at least. I don’t think I blame him, I don’t want to look at me either. _He mutilated me. _I don’t- I know that. I see how much it's hurting him. What the Mage did, and what I said about it. I still can’t make sense of what _I’m _thinking. About the Mage; about what to do. I_ really_ do need to talk to Penny.

I hear the door to the catacombs creak, and when I look Baz has appears in its open doorway. I’d expected more blood to be on him, like last time. He probably just spelled it off. Why does he still look so pale? Did he not drink enough- Merlin, he’s _shaking. _

My stomach drops; I think maybe he found it. That room and that fucking candle. I take a step forward, scared. “Baz? What is it, what’s wrong?” 

He looks at me, eyes wide. “They’re gone.”

I don’t know what he means. “Gone?” I frown, “whose gone?”

“The rats, snow,” he whispers, voice shaky, “all of them.”

I shake my head. No, they can’t be. There was _so many. _“Maybe they’re just hiding?”

Baz rounds on me, “I would hear them, Simon!”

Fuck, he would, wouldn't he. I chew on my lip, thinking. Maybe they left? I could have scared them all of with that light spell. I look up to tell this to Baz, but I can’t get the words out because all I can think about is how close he is to crying again, and how much I want to make it stop. I can’t though, I don’t know if he wants me to anymore.

His voice cracks as he speaks, “I’m _so hungry,_ Simon.”

I reach anyway, moving closer so I can run my hands over his arms, “well find you something, _I promise.” _I mean it. He won’t starve; there’s still the woods and the moat and _Crowley_, the goats.

Baz shakes his head, and pretty soon he’s moving away from me, eyes wide. “He said there would be consequences.”

“Baz, what…“

He’s moving further away, “This is what he wants; for me to starve, so I’ve got nothing left in me to hold back. He just needed another reason, and I gave it to him.”

I step towards him, “Baz, not going to class isn’t a reason for you to stave.” I’m careful this time, so I don’t say something stupid. About the Mage.

“_Listen_, Simon! He wants me to hurt someone, _kill them. _Then no one will oppose him killing me, or my family.”

No. _No. _I grab his arms, and I want to shake him for being so stupid. “I _would_,” I breath, trying not to go off. I loosen my grip on his arms, “fuck, I wouldn’t let- You’re not going to kill anyone, Baz. We just need to find you a cat or something…”

“I’ve already tasted it, Simon.”

I pause, confused. He tries to slip away again but I hold on gently. “Tasted what?”

“Human blood,” he says quietly, almost a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about how it…”

I freeze, and I’m not sure if the implications of that matter to me how they should. Besides, he wouldn’t, unless it was desperate. “Baz, when did you…”

He breathes in, shaky. “They dropped some in my mouth, so my fangs would… They _forced_ me to taste it, Simon. I know what someone else’s blood tastes like and I can’t take that back. What if it becomes all I want, all I can think about.” A small cry escapes his lips, “what if I can’t _stop.”_

I pull him in, I can’t help it, I need to have him close. “That won’t happen, Baz,” I promise.

He pulls away, “promise me you’ll end it if I go too far.”

His face has gone frighteningly serious, but his eyes are panicked. His eyes. The other Baz hadn’t had any. _If you want to save me, this is how you do it. _No, I’m not agreeing to do that. Not again. Because I _know_ if I do, and he asks, I will. I try to reach for his arms again, “Baz, I’m not-“

“_Promise me, _Simon_!” _

I feel myself starting to crack, I don’t want this. I shake my head, pleading. “Baz, _please. _Don’t ask me that.”

And then he turns away.

He doesn’t say a word; just leaves.

For a second I’m too shocked to react, but then I chase after him, calling out. He doesn’t even turn his head. I can’t see him when I get up to the chapel, and all I can think about is the last time he ran off, not responding. I think about how I saw his wand slip from his sleeve before he left up the stairs, and I panic. No, _no no._ Not again. I break into a run, and when I’m out in the open of the courtyard I see him.

“**BAZ, _STOP_!” **

I hadn’t meant to do that, but he stops where he is, unable to take another step. I run up to him, chest heaving from fright. _It’s okay_, I tell myself. _He’s right here. _He looks furious but I don’t really care. “_Stop_ _doing that!”_ I shout, close to tears.

He looks at me searchingly, and after a second his eyes go wide. “Simon, I wasn’t going to-“

I push his chest, “how was I supposed to know that! You didn’t say a thing last time; you just stormed off from the car, and I saw fire _and_-“ I start crying; I can’t stop it anymore. I _thought- _I was so fucking _scared._

Baz’s voice is quiet, “I didnt mean…”

I push him once more, “don’t make me promise something like that!”

I go to shove him again, even if it does absolutely nothing. I can’t though, because he pulls me to his chest, arms wrapping around me almost timidly. “Alright,” he says, and he sounds scared too. “I shouldn’t have- I’m_ sorry_.”

_Sorry?_ He’s scared the hell out of me more than anything else has in the last few _days_, the prick. But he’s holding _me. _He never… it’s always me that moves first. Bloody hell, he’s _comforting_ me. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. _He’s_ _hurting._ …and I am too. I’m scared, and angry, but he’s _close. _He’s here. I’m going to hold him back. His coat is open, so I weave my arms underneath and hold onto the back of shirt. “I'm s'rry too," I say, and it's barely a whisper.

He presses his head into my shoulder, for a moment. “I know.”

* * *

**Baz**

We don’t go to the forest. Not after that. I wasn’t- I was just angry. I wanted to get away from him for a moment, because I was also scared. The thought of hurting Simon, killing him, even if I’m not that far gone, is terrifying. I asked him to _kill _me, and I hadn’t thought that he’d feel the same way about me. He thinks he loves me now, but would he if he saw me with Wellbelove’s or Bunce’s blood dripping down my throat?

How could he?

I don’t think I could survive the pain of seeing his love disappear. Not when I've only just got it.

I follow him as he leads me to the far side of the school, off-campus grounds. It’s were the goat herder lives, Ebb. Simon has always been close with her. He disappears for a moment, disappearing over a hill.

When he comes back he’s got one of the goats with him, and it’s trailing after him like a dog, bleating softly. I don’t think he used a spell. When he gets closer I see how mortified he looks with himself, and I decide I hate this. He should have to do this for me. I step forward, “Simon, you don’t…”

He shakes his head, and I think he might be about to cry. “You need more than rats and squirrels, Baz, and I don’t think either of us could catch a merwolf right now.”

He’s right, and _Crowley_ do I hate that he is.

Simon’s hand goes to his left hip, and he starts muttering that little incantation that he does to summon it from whatever void it goes to. Does it just disappear? That would mean he has it on him all the time. It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing.

But he also doesn’t need to do it.

I place my hand over his, stopping him. “Simon, you don’t need to do that. I’ve got it. …I’ll manage.” The relief in his eyes makes it worth it, but he still opens his mouth to protest.

“Baz…”

I kiss him, soft. It’s the only way to shut him up. I pour as much reassurance into as I can before I pull back just enough to speak, my hand lingering over his. “I’ve got it, Simon.” 

He's stunned to silence, but I give him another quick pec, just to be safe. I cast a following spell at the goat, and I lead it out of sight, beyond one of the hills where he can’t see. The goat bleats up at me happily, and my heart clenches a little. Rats and squirrels don’t do that. Not even the cat I once found looked so innocent. I kneel down, scratching it under the chin as I let my wand slip from my sleeve and into my hand. “**Ti’s but a scratch,**” I cast at its throat, careful that I don’t make the words to powerful. It’s only a small thing.

I try to make quick work of draining the poor thing; it dies quickly, not long after I start to drink. I didn't have the strength to break its neck. It’s harder to drink than from the thermos, with no fangs to get past all the wool and such. It’s better than the rats though, so it goes down quickly.

When I’m done I sit back on my haunches, and wait.

I’d waited last time, in the bathroom, just in case.

It’s been a few minutes when I know it’s going to happen again. I lean forward, away from the goat, the poor thing. Fuck, it hurts. I try to hold it; resist. I _need _it.

I fail.

A small sob escapes me, and I watch what must be at least half or more soak into the grass. _What a waste._

-v---v-

It’s minutes before I’m able to stand. I’ve probably still got more in me than I usually do, but _Morgana_, this isn’t good. I draw in a shaky breath and spell my shirt clean, and my mouth doesn’t bleed for once. I look down at the goat. Even if what I kept is helping me heal, I feel disgusted. I’ve never wasted anything before. The rats and now this. I wonder if it’s one of the goats that Simon always lets sleep in his lap. I’ve got to clean this up. I point my wand at the ground, “**There’s Nothing to See Here.” **

I’m not sure what to do with the goat; I could turn it invisible, but someone might trip. Or smell. I don’t want to carry it past Simon either. There’s the merwolves; but that doesn’t seem right. I have to settle for turning it invisible. I kneel down, which is a struggle in itself. “**These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”**

If Simon sees that I’m shaking when I go back, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he slips his hand into mine as we walk; hesitant. Hovering.

I hold on tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for any typos! Will fix asap.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Hey guys! Sooooo sorry for the wait, and that this a pretty short chapter. I hadn't found the time to write over the last week as much as I usually do, but I really wanted to get something out though. Don't worry though, more to come soon!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

**Simon**

I’m not sure if we’ll share a bed, after that shitstorm of emotions. I doubt he’d want to be that close after what I’d said, despite the small, fragile reprieve we achieved after the chapel. His lips on mine, soft. Gentle and brief.

He keeps me close, until we reach our room and he climbs into his own bed. I think that’s the end of it. That the reprieve has reached its breaking point, and I’m to stay on my side of the room forevermore. But he reaches out and takes my arm, guiding me down until I’m resting beside him. “Still want you to stay,” he mumbles, pulling the covers over us both.

Okay, still in trouble then. That’s fine. A relief, really. There’s still too much bubbling for that discussion to be over. I’ll ignore it, for now. I think Baz is trying to do the same. I’m not sure if he wants me to touch him or not, now that we're back. I can’t really read the level of distance that he wants right now, emotionally or otherwise. I’m not really good at that sort of thing, as people have told me. If I get it wrong I might make it worse, because I can’t bloody figure out how to fix-

Baz kisses me, brief like last time. “Stop thinking so hard,” he says, tucking his arm around my waist, “you’re giving yourself wrinkles.”

“Would you care?”

He shuffles closer, “If it meant you’d finally had an original thought, no.”

I smile at that; my hand coming to rest over his jaw, affectionate. He flinches a little when I trace the curve of his jawline, but he doesn’t pull away. I keep going, and after a moment I feel his jaw start to unclench, relaxing. I run my thumb over his bruises, lightly grazing the corner of his lips. I look up and find his eyes, a question.

He trembles, “please.”

My lips are on his as soon as he even finishes the word. I’m careful though, and I try to be gentle like he was before. His lips feel warm, but that’s probably me, and when he starts to kiss back its clear he doesn’t want anything to do with being careful. I make my lips lighter anyway, teasing. He whines, trying to bite my lower lip.

I do it again.

He pushes forward, not having any of it, and deepens the kiss himself. I lean into him, pushing him down. I'm over him now, and Merlin, I love him. So fucking much. My lips move down his neck, and I hear his breath hitch a little. I draw back so I can see him. He’s shaking a little, but I am too. I run my fingers through his hair, “okay?”

He reaches up to kiss me. “Okay.”

* * *

**Baz**

His arms are still around me when I wake up, and I can feel his face pressed into the back of my neck. It must be near time to get up, based on the racket going on downstairs. Simon should be waking up soon then, so he can get his scones. I’ll get up too. I’m too scared of what might happen if I don’t. I’m tired though; I don’t know how long we kissed for. Time had ceased to be a concept pretty shortly. It was nice, not to think. Forget about the rest of the night.

I hear Simon’s heart rate change, and soon enough he’s starting to shift, waking up. After a moment he goes still, and I think he’s trying to figure out if I’m awake or not. His hand is still resting above my stomach, so I lay my own over it, entwining our fingers.

He relaxes, and presses a quick kiss in between my shoulders, just below my neck. “Morning.”

I sigh, turning over to face him, “unfortunately.”

The sun peeping through the window is highlighting all his freckles and moles. I’d kissed them all last night. He starts shifting again, his eyes refusing to meet mine for too long.

“Simon-“

He cuts me off, “Baz, before the chapel…“

I shake my head, uninterested; this conversation has to wait. “I need to get ready, Simon. We can talk about that later.”

He chews his lip for a second, “about the Mage, yeah?”

I’m surprised by him, “yes, the Mage. Among other things.”

-v---v-

I manage to fit in a shower before it’s time to head to breakfast. Simon skips his, so I spell him clean. Unhygienic idiot. There’s enough panic in me to deter any thought of skipping the day and returning to my bed for eternity. I don’t want to see what he’d do if I miss another day. Without the rats; it’s going to be even harder to find food, if I can even keep it down.

We’re about to leave when I feel Simon grab my arm. I turn, and he’s got that face he always has when he’s about to ask something that’s probably stupid.

“Baz, would you sit with Penny and me for breakfast?”

_Here we go again._

I roll my eyes, “Penny and _I, _Simon. I’ve already told you that we can’t-“

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he waves me off, “I just thought….” He trails off, looking a little disappointed.

His eyes are doing that thing again, and I do feel a little bit bad, but it’s not as if I don’t _want _to sit with him. But _I cant._ Crowley, he looks sad. He’s a warm person, by nature. He likes to be around people, and people like to be around him. He _needs _to be around them, especially those he cares for. I’ve always been a bit of a recluse, myself. But I do want to be around _him. _

My resolve cracking a little, I lean over press a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s try and meet up in the library at lunch, okay?” It’s the most I feel safe doing; the Mage rarely ventures there. 

His forlorn expression disappears though, and he looks almost pleased. “I’ll bring Penny, she’ll want to be filled in on what’s happened.”

I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding, “see you then.” I turn and leave, and I’m actually surprised when Simon doesn’t follow immediately. Instead he waits, and he must have waited a while because he only comes through the dining hall doors when I’ve begun to eat. It’s bizarre; he’s always down at breakfast before me. He didn’t have to wait. But he’s trying to keep me happy, ‘maintain the illusion’.

I wish we’d been friends from the start; then maybe we would have to do this. …No, we would have had to. Eventually the Mage would have tried to twist it, forbidden it maybe. There was always going to be an illusion if there was the Mage.

Always the Mage.

I wish my mother was still here. Alive and in charge. Then maybe things would have been different. Maybe if I hadn’t been bitten, and Simon was just a normal mage. No ‘chosen one’, no great prophesy or Humdrum.

But that’s just an illusion too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Merry Christmas, ya'll! 
> 
> Longer chapter to make up for how short the last one was.
> 
> Also, posted this really late so mostly unedited grammar/spelling wise. I’ll go back through the whole thing eventually and fix everything up. :)

**Penelope**

I pass Agatha the orange juice, “the Mage really asked you that?” She’s barely touched her toast; it’s not even buttered. It was obvious something was up the moment she started heading in my direction, she never does that.

She nods, tapping a butter knife, “he said that Simon had been unfocused since we …since I- That I need to help remind him who his friends are.” She looks at me, expression sad, “Penny, I love him, I do. But I can’t love him like that. I don’t think I ever did.”

I take her hand, to stop her fidgeting, “I know that, I think I always did but I…”

“Didn’t want to hurt him,” she completes, “neither did I.”

I highly doubt that the Mage’s request has anything to do with ‘restoring the happy couple’. _Remind him who his friends are. _He’s catching on then. It’s not unbelievable that the Mage wouldn’t want his golden boy ‘fraternising’ with one of the Old Families heirs. A truce between Simon and Baz is a threat to his mission to weaken the public power of the Old-Families. It would reflect on him, seem as though his grip was loosening.

Agatha’s hand tightens, and her eyes stare past me. _The Mage? _I turn and look over my shoulder. No, not the Mage. Bloody Simon. If he’s going to be showing up to breakfast he’s got to stop doing it so late; people are looking. _Baz _was down here and seated before him, even if it was only a minute or to earlier. Simon still hasn’t explained why in Avalon Baz is out of bed and taking classes.

Agatha’s hand retreats from mine when he gets closer, and he only seems to notice she’s there when he’s swinging his leg over the bench.

He pauses, almost sitting, “Oh, eh… hi?”

I roll my eyes, pushing the scones that have just appeared closer to him so he might sit. He does, and Agatha seems to relax too. 

“Hello, Simon,” she says, “did you sleep in?”

“Something like that,” he says through a mouthful of scones.

I notice the red marks peeking out over his collar. _Oh, I see. _I raise my eyebrow at him, trying not to smile, “did Baz sleep in too?”

His cheeks turn red, and his eyes dart over to Agatha frantically, “_Penny.”_

Agatha looks between the two of us, eyes narrowed, “Basilton?” She looks over at Baz, then back at Simon, then back at Baz again. Suddenly she whips around, hands clasped over her mouth, “_oh!_”

“_Agatha,” _Simon hisses, desperately trying to keep his voice quiet.

She giggles, removing her hand to reveal a toothy grin, “I’m sorry, it's just- _it all makes so much sense._”

“No, Agatha …this only happened after-”

“Well, _obviously, _dummy. I mean _you and Baz. _All these years, he was probably in love with you the whole time!” she says excitedly.

Simon frowns, “he wasn’t in love with me, Agatha.”

I give Simon a look.

Agatha looks unconvinced, “well, at the least he’s always shown a fair bit of interest in you.”

He looks almost offended, looking between the two of us. “He was insulting me from _day one.”_

I shrug, “well that’s just sort of Baz though, isn’t it? He banters.”

“It wasn’t banter, Penny. He was always doing everything he could to make sure I knew it too.”

This is dangerous ground. All my previous attempts at trying to discuss it over the years haven’t been very successful. “Simon,” I breathe, “….perhaps he was pushing you away to spare himself of you pushing him away _first.” _

Simon flusters, “I wouldn’t- If he hadn’t- _He hated me!_“

“You were equally terrible to him from the start,” I try, “I don’t think you ever gave him a chance.”

He looks to Baz after a moment, obviously trying to be discreet. When he turns back, confusion has overcome his features. “I don’t-” he starts, voice low, “I don’t know why….”

_Why I started hating him. _He won’t say it out loud; and I think I know when this all started. I need to tread carefully. “Simon …when you first met the Mage, what did he tell you about the Old Families?”

Simon launches right in, “well he told me who they were; that they were corrupt, power-mad and believed that the Mage-“ He stops, paling.

“Simon?”

Simon swallows, “When the Crucible cast us together, Baz told me his name. His full name.”

“Pitch,” Agatha says quietly, and I think she understands too.

Simon looks like he’s going to be sick. “Do you think we could have that talk at lunch, Penny?”

* * *

**Simon**

I go to Ebb’s first class. I wouldn’t have focussed anyway, and I need to clear my head a little. Before lunch. I probably shouldn’t be here so soon, but I want to see Ebb. I wonder if she’ll know. That it was me. There’s no chance that she hasn’t noticed the disappearance, and I’m the only one that she’s taught how to heard her goats. As far as I know, anyway.

She’s sitting on her hill, staff laid out over her knees as she watches the flock. She looks more like some rouge Jedi than a goat-herder. She’s got on her tattered robes instead of her overalls, but she’s still wearing that blue beanie. She probably could be a Jedi; she has this _power _about her. Below the surface, calm. You don’t suspect it.

I sit down next to her, crossing my legs. I’m not sure what to say.

She smiles, not looking away from her goats, and you would think she wasn’t always so sad. “Hiya, Simon.”

The hem of my jacket suddenly becomes very interesting. She knows. She must do. What should I say? _How are the goats? _That’s not obvious at all. But I want to tell her.

“What’s got you so sad?”

I don’t know. I stole one of your goats. I thought Baz was giving up and dying for the last few days. The Mage isn’t making any sense. The whole school thinks I laid into Baz, and I can’t even tell them they’re wrong and I would never do that because it’s safer if they think I did? And I may have screwed things up with Baz before I even knew I was screwing things up with him in the first place. I hadn’t even _thought. _I’d probably just heard his name and joined my own dots. Fuck, _what if we could have been friends. _Were more than that now, but it took a burning forest to get there. It could have been so easy, if I’d just let it. _Why can’t I just think!_

“You blaming yourself again?”

Ebb’s shifted, looking at me like she does to one of her baby goats that’s still trying to figure things out. She’s not far off.

I pick a the grass, “I just keep messing things up before I know that I am. Ever since I got here.”

She knocks my hand with the butt of her staff, stopping me. “You can’t get everything right, Simon.”

“Yeah, but these are _important _things. Things that might have changed everything.”

She gestures her staff in an arc, bringing the goats in closer, “An eleven year old boy couldn’t have predicted the Humdrums capabilities, or who that boy would love.”

“Ebb, I’m not really talking about the Humdr- Ebb, _how_?”

She scratches under the chin of one of the nanny’s, scooping into her lap. But for once she doesn’t seem to be close to tears. “The one that was lost.”

I feel my heart clench in my chest, “Ebb, I don’t know what to say-“

“It is not the first time I’ve summoned a deer or fox to the castle for your Baz. …Food is scarce here, for the unwilling. It is better a goat than something else.”

_Unwilling. _“You …you_ know_?”

She hums, “little Baz didn’t choose this life. Someone else chose it for him.”

Right, of course she would know. Her brother is one, but he chose to be. I look at her carefully, “I know you said Nicodemus wasn’t there, but do you… do you know who sent them? The vampires.”

“Nicky does. He knows.”

I resist pulling one of the goats into my lap, “we went to him, Ebb. Over the holidays. He wouldn’t tell us.”

Ebb stops her petting, going still. “Was he well?”

I shrug, “I think so, Ebb.” It’s kinder to lie; he’d looked like he’d been rotting from the inside out, but not on a physical level. No one wants to know that about their brother. “…Did he ever tell you anything?”

“I haven’t seen him since he turned, Simon. If he really does know, he never told me.”

“Fiona?” I suggest, carefully. They had to have been close. Nicodemus and Fiona, if those photos were anything to go by.

She shakes her head, “if she knew, whoever did it is long dead.”

Right, duh. Fiona’s is Baz’s aunt. Whoever did it would be _very_ dead if she knew.

“Is this what’s got you so upset, Simon?”

“…Sort of, a part of it,” I admit, letting myself pull the goat onto my lap, gently. Ebb doesn’t protest, so I let myself pet it. She doesn’t seem upset by me handling them, like I thought she would. “We’ve been trying to find out who it was. I was looking for Baz at first, so he could know. But now it's grown into something else.”

“Something else?”

I shudder, “something happened, Ebb… Something bad, and Penny thinks it’s all pointing to someone I’d rather it not be…”

Her gaze wanders over to the Watford grounds, “and if it’s true?”

“If it’s true then everything I ever believed in is a lie; who I thought that person was is a _lie_. Ebb, if it’s true …I don’t really think I know who I am anymore.”

The Mage introduced me to magic. He influenced me, taught me. _The Mage’s Chosen One._

Ebb doesn’t bat an eye, “you’re Simon.”

I shake my head, “yeah, but-“

“-and you are not defined by not realising who someone is because of how close they are to you. It hurts, it really does, when you do know. You’ll never see them the same way, but it also doesn’t mean that you stop caring for them. But you _do_ have to see them.”

There’s emotion in her words, like she understands them to her core. “Your brother?” I ask.

She nods, “Nicky.”

“…but what if it means I’m a lie too? All that I’m supposed to be.”

Ebb looks at me curiously, “does it matter?”

I look at her, surprised. “I’m supposed to defeat the Humdrum. End the war.”

She taps one end of her staff against the ground slowly, rhythmic, “you don’t have to be a soldier just because you are powerful. It doesn’t have to all be up to you.”

I think I get that. Or I get that’s what he gets. She’s powerful. Maybe as much as the Mage. She could have fought, but she doesn’t. She seems happy to watch over her goats, protecting them. _Protecting_. Not fighting. I think I get that too.

I wish I had earlier. I take a breath, I need to get this out too. “…it also means that a long time ago I turned someone away that I now care about. For _nothing.”_

Ebb hums, “It seems you came round.”

“But at the time I really _believed _I was right_. _That he was the enemy._ Messing things up before I even knew I was messing them up,_” I quote. “_Fuck_, I could have caused Baz to become exactly what I thought he was.”

“That boy has too good a heart to become _that_. He may act like doesn’t, but he cares. More than most. I’ve watched him, he’s every bit Natasha’s son. Quick tonged, cool, but fair. And he cares about _you.” _

“But I-“

She silences me with a look, “And you care just as much about _him_.” 

I look down at the goat in my lap, “Ebb, I…”

“Hold on to what you’ve found, Simon. It doesn’t come around often.”

* * *

**Baz**

I don’t know what they were talking about, but the three of them were whispering to each other all breakfast. I’m surprised that I find relief in Simon talking to Agatha. I wasn’t sure if I’d be jealous or not, I’d always been jealous before. I’m not now, well, I’m not worried. Besides, it’s probably better if people think there is something going on between them. Even better if the Mage believes it.

I see Simon on the way to class. He’s not going to class. He’s not even on school grounds. He’s walking up the way we went last night, to the goat herder; to Ebb. I watch him, even from here I can see he’s got his hands on his pockets. I shake my head as I go on my way. His hearts to good. I just hope he isn’t too obvious; not that I’ll let him do that again, no matter how hungry I am.

Speaking of hungry; I mustn’t have eaten enough actual food again. I often forget. I’d eaten a slice of the honey toast that had appeared, and I’d managed to convince Mcloud to give me a bit of his blood pudding. The table isn’t being very helpful; it keeps giving me the first thing I crave, not what I actually _need_. I don’t know how Simon did it.

Maybe I’ll ask him at lunch. He’d seemed so pleasantly surprised when I suggested the idea, that it seemed worth the risk. Besides, it seems he was beginning to be onboard with at least discussing some possibilities. _About the Mage, yeah? _He also seemed to want to talk about last night, before all the kissing. I don’t really want to go near it so soon, but if he talks about the Mage I suppose it’s only fair.

Classes cant go fast enough.

* * *

**Penelope**

I wonder if perhaps we should have included Agatha in all of this. Does she know enough? She knows about Simon and Baz at the least. Simon probably told her that Baz was a Vampire half a dozen times a day since fifth year. Not sure if she ever believed it though. People probably assume he gave up on that theory sometime this year, considering the sudden cease in vampire accusations.

She can’t have found out about what has happened, as far as I know only Baz, the Mage, whoever actually did it, Simon and myself know. In terms of Baz’s mom, I’m certain whoever killed her is responsible for Baz’s kidnapping. And it can’t be coincidence that Baz was attacked after Simon and he tried to dig around. The fact that Simon has remained unharmed is also hard to not take into account.

Well definitely have to talk about that, Simon can’t ignore it for any longer. Not now that the Mage has approached Agatha and is becoming concerned with his relationship with Baz. If he really does see Baz as a threat he might use it as an excuse to attack again, with the Coven’s support. The Mage has been trying to persuade the World of Mages that the Pitches are allied with the Humdrum for years now.

The only problem is, we can’t discuss anything in neither of them elect to _show up_ to the Library in the first place. I try not to look unsettled, keeping my attention on the book in front of me. The guise of a study group is our best bet.

I’m beginning to think they're off having another one of their dramatic conversations when Baz sweeps in, more elegantly than I thought him capable of at the moment. “Bunce,” he says in greeting, taking his jacket off in one fluid motion. He puts it on the back of his chair before taking a seat, the sleeves of his school shirt rolled up.

I frown, “are you _hot_?”

“Always, Bunce,” he says through a grimaced smile. 

I roll my eyes, “no, you dolt. Your blazer, you took it off.”

Baz looks to the back of his chair, like he’s noticing his jacket there for the first time. “So I have,” he says.

Well that’s interesting. I study him carefully, looking for signs of something off, “do you need too …you know?”

“Penny, _please_,” he says, warningly.

I raise my hands in surrender, “sorry, sorry. Just checking.”

He relaxes slightly into his chair, surveying the library. He starts to frown the longer he looks, until finally his attention returns back to me, “where is Simon?”

* * *

**Baz**

I feel what happiness and beginnings of hope I’d had from this morning leave me. He’s not here. Of course he’s not here. We're _supposed_ to talk about the Mage, why would he come? This morning I thought that maybe he was coming around when he said we should talk things over. About the Mage. Stupid mistake on my part, thinking he actually would. I would have thought he’ still want to spend time together, though.

“You didn’t see him?” Penny asks.

I tap my fingers against the table, keeping an eye on the door just in case. “No, we planned to meet here.” I don’t try and disguise the bite in my tone.

Penny looks at me wearily, “Simon wanted me to come here so we could discuss things.”

I sigh, “that’s what I thought too, but it seems he’s changed his mind.”

“He might just be late, or eating.”

I shake my head, “we would have run into him.”

Penny looks thoughtful, “we should still discuss things, while we're here. If he is just late we can fill him in. If not… we'll stage an intervention or something."

I snort, which is very undignified but appropriate, “good luck with that one, Bunce.”

Her expression shifts, becoming almost tired, “you should give him a chance, it can’t be easy for him to realise-“

“I’ve given him a chance,“ I hiss, and I feel as if I am on fire. “He _won’t_ see.”

She leans over the table, “he _does _see, Baz. _He does._ He just doesn’t want to accept. I think if we can prove that the Mage is also responsible for-” She stops, going pale. Her eyes grow wide.

Something in my chest starts to hurt, a dread. My voice goes low, “responsible for what, Bunce?”

Something akin to sympathy grows in her eyes, and the dread grows stronger. “Bunce?”

She takes my hand, “Baz, I think I know something...” She trails off, looking about the library.

“Penny, if you don’t tell me what in Crowley you are talking about _right now_.”

She stands slowly, picking up her book as if she’s just finished studying, “not here.”

I almost don’t want to follow her.

* * *

**Simon**

Someone’s following me. I was heading to the library when I sensed it. _Felt it_. I cut away from my path when I did; I’m not leading them there; if we were going to talk what’s potentially treason. I go down the hallways, where it’s quiet, hand at my hip just in case. Summoning my sword is always more reliable than trying to cast a spell.

I round the corner and wait, standing flush against the wall. If the Humdrums sent another goblin after me I swear I’ll-

My stalker comes into view; not a goblin. One of the Mages men, Premal._ Penny's brother_

It was the mages men that had held Baz down. 

And suddenly I’m filled with rage_. _

I clench my fists around the front of his robes before he can react and slam him against the wall, hard. “Were you there!?”

He struggles, “Get the fuck off, Snow!” 

He’s a lot bigger than me but I'm _stronger._ I push him again, snarling, "were you _there! _When he did it!”

Premal’s face twists in confusion, still trying to pull away, “what the fuck are you talking about, Snow?”

I give him another half-shove, out of reflex, but I study his face, ready to find any lie. There isn’t any. _He’s confused… _I feel my grip loosen, unsure. “...You don’t know?”

“Know _what_?”

I step back, my hands falling away. “I- Sorry. I thought-“ I gather myself, “why were you following me?”

He steps away from the wall, smoothing his tunic out. He eyes me hesitantly, “the Mage wants to see you. And I wasn’t _following_ you, you just wouldn’t stay still. So if you could, _please_ follow me_.” _

The Mage...

I follow Premal.

-v---v-

He’s at his desk when I come in, and I don’t think he knows I’m there; his eyes fixed to his laptop. I close the door behind me, louder than necessary. It does the trick; he glances up, his typing ceasing. “Ah, Simon,” he greets, standing. “I’m sorry for disrupting your lunch, I thought we should talk.”

I walk further into the room, “talk, sir?” We don’t talk, he teaches. Tests my control over my magic. My eyes flicker to the floor. _Did it happen here? Am I standing where he did it?_

The Mage wanders around to the front of his desk and rests against it, "how is your magic? I have found indications that your control over it is growing. Have you experienced this?”

It's not control, it's a _management. _If he asked for a demonstration I’m not sure I could. I need Baz to do it, I’ve only tried it with him. It’s like, I don’t know, a transfer. I pour my excess magic into him, and he channels it into a spell. I can barely control how much I give either. The Mage doesn’t need to know I can that. I might be able to twist it though.

“I’m still finding it difficult to control, Sir. How much I put into a spell, that it,” I say, “I always use too much.”

The Mage straightens, folding his hands in front of him, “you are powerful, Simon. This is to be expected, but you must learn control it if you wish to end the war.”

“I do, sir,” I say carefully, “that’s all I want.”

He nods, “of course, Simon. It’s what you were born for. But I must ask you, why do you protect the Pitch boy if that is the case? I doubt the warding in your room was his work. Much too strong; they were your level of power. Tell me, what has he promised you? A truce with the Pitches, I suspect. I doubt he offered it freely.”

_This is what Baz said he would do. _I hadn’t thought- He sees it as political, _fuck_. It’s manipulation to him. _Baz was right, this is dangerous. _I meet the Mage’s eye, “Pitch isn’t my friend, sir.”

The Mage is unblinking. “No, he is not. I’m glad you see that at least. His sudden interest in you is only further evidence that the Pitch family is allied with the Humdrum. You mustn’t let them get close, Simon, as I fear you are,” he walks over to me, serious. “I think they mean to lull you into a false sense of trust through the Pitch boy, find your vulnerability.”

I breathe, deep. “Sir, if Pitch…“

But he’s walking away, back to his desk. He goes around to one of the draws, producing something. “I believe I have a solution, something that I believe will not only help you control your magic, but indirectly let it be known to the Pitches that we will not play their game.”

That sounds ...specific. I go closer, curious. It’s a vial, full of greyish liquid, as if it were filled with dust. I’m not sure I want to drink it.

He studies it himself, “it was an afterthought, I grant you. But I believe it will be quite effective. It’s contents allow for resilience and strength, without the expected consequences they would usually cause. Perfect for controlling your magic. Perfect for defeating the Humdrum.”

_All that, in one little vial. _I want him to explain, reassure. Like I’m that eleven year old boy again. I look at it hesitantly, “how did you get it?”

He frowns at me, like I’ve missed something obvious. “Have you not been attending your political science classes, Simon?”

I shrug, “I’ve been a little distracted…” _Because you hurt Baz ._

His expression turns grim, disappointment heavy in his eyes. “Simon.”

“Sorry…” I mumble, and I have to look away.

He sighs, “vampire’s hold many magical properties, which you would know, if you attended your classes.”

I look at the vial, watching the little bits of dust float around in the murky liquid. I frown, looking down at the floor.

_Vampire’s hold many magical properties…_

_Without the usual consequences._

_Let it be known to the Pitches that we will not play their game. _

Little bits of dust.

I look back at the vial. 

My blood turns cold.

He- Baz’s fangs, he wanted me to…_ oh god._

The Mage looks at me quizzically, “Simon? What on earth is the matter?”

And the ice inside me turns to fire.

_Rage. _

My magic is unhinged, and I couldn’t give a fuck about control. I meet his eye, letting him see how much I want to fucking kill him. “How _dare_ you_.”_

“Simon,” he warns.

I back him against his desk, seeing red. “You absolute _bastard! _You fucking_-” _

He slaps me, _hard_.

* * *

**The Mage**

I struck him. I struck my son.

He’s touching his cheek, stunned to silence.

I step forward, reaching for him, “Simon…”

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Once I was eleven years old."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Happy New Year. 2020 is here!
> 
> WARNING, DAD JOKE AHEAD
> 
> I haven't posted since the last decade.

**Baz**

It was him. The Mage. I know it was fucking him. Penny’s theory has confirmed it. He killed her, _fuck. _I’m going to explode, like Simon does. He did it, just to fucking cease power. I need to kill something. To hunt.

_I cant. _

I press my head into my hands, grounding myself. _I cant. I cant. I cant. _No, I _won’t. _

Unless it’s him.

If I saw him right now, I know I would do it. I’d rip his throat out and watch his blood run down his _stupid_ Robin Hood costume. Fangs or not.

Simon, I need Simon.

No, he’d shrug it off. Deny it. He wouldn’t even _talk. _

I think I want him anyway.

“I might be wrong, Baz,” Penny says, voice quiet.

My hands tighten into my hair. “_No,” _I growl. “It was him. It’s always been him.”

A hand comes to rest on my shoulder, and I feel the bed dip as Penny sits beside me, “I’m sorry.“

I draw a shaky breath, “please don’t, Penny.”

Her hand moves in between my shoulder blades, running circles. “Ok.”

I lean into her, hiding my face in her shoulder as tears start to fall. I’m breaking, all over again. Because of the Mage. And Simon’s not here.

* * *

**Simon**

I can’t think. Oh_ Christ, _I can’t even breathe. I don’t know if I’ve stopped running or if I still am. Everything’s hot.

It’s happening again.

I hope I don’t hurt anyone.

_He hurt me._

* * *

**Baz**

Penny’s still got her arm around me when I feel it. Simon’s magic.

I sit bolt upright, and everything else suddenly slips away.

_He’s gone off._

Penny stands too, her hand clutching my arm, “Baz? Do you feel that?”

My chest constricts, “_Simon.” _

I need to find him; this one feel’s bad.

Penny’s already heading to the door, ready to fight. I follow, grabbing my wand. If someone’s- Crowley, if he’s hurt_,_ I might end up killing something after all, and I don’t think I’ll care. Manticore _or_ Humdrum. Imagine that, the Chosen One’s enemy slaying the Humdrum for him. The Mage will be _seething. _

She stops me as we reach the door, blocking it. _“_Baz, you’re _hurt.” _

I push past her, trying to focus on where his magic is coming from, “I don’t really care, Penny.”

She cut’s in front of me, “you _should_! If not for yourself then for him.”

“Penny, If something happens and I could have stopped it-” I don’t have time for this, I need to get to him. _Fast. _

She keeps up, “just let _me_ handle whatever it is, alright? You look after Simon.”

I think I can agree with that.

* * *

** Si****mon**

I don’t know where I am. I’m somewhere, but it feels like nowhere. _Moving. _A space between spaces.

* * *

**Baz**

This isn’t supposed to be here. It’s supposed to be the old sports shed, full of dust and old equipment. It’s not.

_It’s a nursery. _

I look to Penny, confused. Simon’s magic led us here. It’s so strong I can barely see past it. But why…

“It hid itself away when it’s ward’s failed,” she whispers.

I look again, and I remember the photo from The Record. Blackened and charred. _My Nursery. _The first breach in Watford history. I swallow. _It happened here. This is where she died. _

Then why is Simon’s magic… I step inside with my wand raised, searching. Everything is covered in ash and soot, the cots rotting away. But there’s no manticore. No Insidious Humdrum.

Just Simon.

He’s curled up on the ground in the centre of the room, hands over his head.

And he’s crying. 

I run.

His magic is filling the room, hot. There’s a second wave coming. Gently, I move his arms out of the way. I almost recoil. His cheek is _red. _Inflamed and angry. His tears have left tracks through the thin layer of dust on his face. I sit him up, holding his shoulders, and I realise that he’s trembling. I cup his uninjured cheek, _“Simon_.”

He won't look at me, “the Mage, he-” A sob wracks through him, and his shoulders shake, “_Baz_.”

* * *

**Simon**

He’s pulling me into his lap, holding me, and I think Penny’s here as well. Baz is whispering something and I can’t hear the words, but he’s close. Too close. They’re both too close. It’s going to happen again. I need- they’re _too close. _

I won’t be able to shield them. Not this time.

“-Simon, love. It’s alright. We’ve got you. Deep breathes now.”

* * *

**Baz**

I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’m going to keep talking till I know that he can. Penny’s got her arm around us both, and she’s running a hand through his hair. I keep talking, “Just breathe, It’s over, you’re fine.” I’ve never said these words before; I wanted too, every damn time. But I never did. I prodded instead. I’m holding him now, and I’m kind of scared because this hasn’t happened before, and he might go off again. He’s usually up on his feet pretty soon after, bothered and irritable, but okay none the less.

_Why did he come here?_ It looks like he’s the one that scorched it, but it’s been like this for thirteen years.

Simon’s grip on my shirt tightens, “going to happen again. _Leave.”_

Penny kisses his hair, “we’re not leaving you, Simon.”

He stirs, trying to move away. “Not safe,” he says, voice strained.

I gently turn his face to me, gripping his hand, “share it with me. I’ll use some of it for you.” We’ve done it before and it was fine, and if it helps now I'll bloody well do it again. He’s thinking it over, but he looks worried.

“It’ll work, Simon,” Penny says, encouraging.

He swallows, “I’ll try.”

And then he starts to _push._

Penny yelps, pulling her hand away. His magic must sting her like it had last time. I don’t know why it doesn’t hurt me. It’s uncomfortable, at first, but then it settles and it feels like _power. _Hot and inextinguishable. He’s watching me carefully, ready to stop at the first sign of my discomfort. If it hurt I wouldn’t show him, he can’t hold it all by himself.

But the feeling of the sheer strength of his magic at my fingertips… _Crowley_, if someone else other than Simon had this power, someone less _kind_. It’s a fearful thought. I need to get rid of it, just in case. I try not to focus on where we are, willing us somewhere else. I think I know the rhyme.

I look up, willing the magic into my words, “**_twinkle twinkle little star, up above the world so high!” _**

And then there are stars.

Like last time, I’m not actually sure if we’re in space; we just seem to be _floating. _Simon’s still pushing, holding us here. Wherever here is. The room’s gone, or at least we can’t see it. I’m glad. Penny’s on her feet, gaping at the sight. It is very impressive. _Beautiful. _It’s all him.

Simons sits up a bit now and loosens his grip on my shirt, gazing up at the stars. He seems calmer, and his tears have slowed down. I draw him closer, resting my chin on his head, “you’re bloody amazing, Simon.”

“You cast the spell.”

“Your magic.”

He breathes, resting his head against me. “Guess so.”

Penny turns to us, “Simon this is- _wow!” _And she’s off again, turning in circles as she admires a nebula.

I won't ask him to stop, he will when he’s given enough. There must be a lot, he doesn’t let up. And I’d been _angry _earlier. I didn’t realise or think if…

Simon goes still suddenly, and I can _feel _him thinking.

I run my thumb over his hand, “Simon?”

He tilts his head up a little, so I have to lift my chin. “Baz, is your heart _beating_?” 

_Well that’s interesting._ He shouldn’t be able to hear it. It’s supposed to be quiet, and slow. Even if it’s excited.

“Baz?”

“It always beats, you dolt. I wouldn’t bleed if it didn’t.”

His brow furrows, “yeah, but it’s _loud.”_

“Well I did just have the living daylights scared out of me.”

He puts his head back against my chest, “sorry.”

I frown, “Christ, Simon. What on earth are you apologising for? It’s not your fault.”

“_But it is,_ Baz,” he whispers, “this is why he…“

He pulls away from me, his magic too. I hear Penny give a small groan of disappointment as the stars disappear.

And we’re in the old sport’s shed. Like we’re supposed to be.

Simon stands, not seeming to notice, “Baz, he- _your fangs.”_

He’s gone pale. I stand up with him, worried he’s got amnesia or something. I hold his arms, steadying him, “Simon, I know.”

He shakes his head, looking in pain. “_No! _He, fuck, he tried to get me to…”

Penny goes over to him, resting a hand on his back, “what are you trying to say, Simon.”

He’s teary again, “he wanted me to drink something. He said it would give me _control_.”

“Over your magic?” I ask.

He nods, “he said it wouldn’t give me the usual consequences, and the vial, it had… I _thought _it had dust in it.”

Penny’s brow as furrowed, “what do you mean by consequences, Simon? What consequences?”

_Consequences, always consequences. _The Mage took the rats because I missed school, but I don’t think that’s what Simon means.

“It wasn’t dust,” he says, starting to shake again, “in the vial, it wasn’t dust. I think …I think he _crushed_ them.”

I frown, “crushed?”

He looks at me, pained, and I see it. Sympathy.

…_wouldn’t give me the usual consequences._

A chill runs down my spine.

“My fangs,” I whisper, almost too quiet to hear.

Penny pales, “is that why you went off, Si?”

He shakes his head, “no. I mean, _maybe? _I got mad, really mad. I wanted to _kill him. _I don’t think I would have, but he…”

I look at his cheek, still angry and red.

It doesn’t matter if Simon would have killed the Mage or not.

I’m going to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Thank's for reading. 
> 
> I made a Spotify playlist for SnowBaz because I need something to listen to while writing. There was an attempt at making the song order reflect the development of their relationship.
> 
> An attempt. 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ss3QQGYPPYAB50yJK1O1v?si=0XY2BkKsTCGoIPJz8GhLoA


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry chapters are taking a little longer to come out, but I promise they will keep coming! Thanks so much to everyone for all the lovely reviews, they are the best thing to read when im having a bit of writers block.

**Penelope**

We’re not stupid enough to go back to our rooms. We have to leave, and soon, it isn’t safe to stay here anymore. This has all gone too far. The Mage will kill Baz, if he thinks he has too. And I would be a fool to think the Mage incapable of doing whatever necessary to keep Simon at his side. Mother was right about coming back here, it was never safe.

The Wavering Woods is our safest bet, somehow. I hate being idle, but we’re going to have to wait. If I call mum it will be at least two days before she can get to us. I don’t think we have that long.

I help Baz rest Simon against a tree; he’d started struggling only a few minutes into the walk. I look back the way we came; we’re far enough in that if anyone’s looking for us we can’t be seen from beyond the tree line. Possibly, but not certainly. I lift my hand above my head, pointing my ring, “**_There’s Nothing to See here!”_**

Just to be safe, or as close to is as I can make myself feel.

Baz is looking at Simon again, all worried. It’s becoming less surreal for me to see emotions other than scorn on his face.

He lifts his own wand up, as I had. “**_There’s Nothing to See Here!”_**

I don’t bother feeling offended. Twice the cover is better.

Even if mine is stronger.

Hand resting on Simon’s shoulder, Baz looks to the canopy. The birds grew silent upon our arrival, but he seems to be listening for them. Searching. “It’ll take an age for a bird to reach my aunt,” he says, on edge. I wonder if he’s getting hungry as well.

He’s right though, no Watford bird could be expected to get to anyone before nightfall. Much less, for anyone to get here soon after that. Birds aren’t fast enough. I look at Simon, and he seems to be thinking the same thing. There isn’t a question about it anymore, the rules no longer matter.

“Use my phone,” I offer, “it will be faster.”

His head whips around, “your _what?” _

I retrieve it from my skirt pocket, holding it out to him, “here.”

He looks positively bewildered. “_How did you-“ _ He turns back to Simon, “did you know she had that?”

Simon pushes himself up further, groaning. “Yeah, she’s had it since the end of last year. For emergencies.”

Baz looks at the phone like I’ve just turned water into wine, “I didn’t think he’d _let them_ work on the grounds…”

I roll my eyes, “just take the phone, Baz. We need to get out of here.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

**Baz**

Every dial tone feels like an echoing footstep. In pace to every second that we lose. One dial, one step. The Mages footsteps, getting closer. I pace, one eye on the tree line. _Come on, pick up! _What the _hell _could she be doing?

I can feel Simon’s eyes following me, thinking. He’s probably worried about me for God’s sake. Like he’s not the one that just went off with the strength of a nuclear bomb. He could barely walk the way here. Penny’s got him though, for now. But we can’t stay here while he gets stronger.

The call goes to message, so I dial again. _Come on, come on, please pick up!_

The dial disappears, replaced by a muted shuffling noise like someone’s trying to get a grips of their phone. _She picked up. _

“-Who the _hell _is this? This number is private-”

I let myself breathe, “Fiona, its _Baz._”

“I swear to God, if you’ve been kidnapped by fucking numpties again-“

“Fiona, it’s the Mage.”

There’s a silence, except for the faint rumbling of an engine.

“What the hell has he done…”

Her voice has gone low, cold.

I walk out of Penny and Simon’s hearing range. “He…” _Fuck, what do I say? _Nothing feels like it can be explained over crappy phone reception. I swallow, “look, there’s too much to explain over the phone. Simon’s hurt and-”

“What, _Snow_?”

I nod, even though she can’t see me, “yes, Simon. And-“ I run a hand over my face, “please, you need to get here. _Fast_.”

* * *

**Fiona**

I stare at the road ahead.

Why does he even care that Snow is hurt? I don’t want anything to do with helping the Mage’s little _pet._

_…but Baz said please._

* * *

**Baz**

There’s another silence, longer than the last one. “Fiona, _please_-“

“I’m coming.”

* * *

**Simon**

Baz is pacing, arms folded and his eyes fixed on the ground. It’s been half an hour and he hasn’t stopped. I hope his aunt will get here soon, so we can leave.

_Leave._

I never thought I’d want to leave Watford. I’m not sure I really do. It's home, the first one I’ve really had. The _only_ one. The foster house never felt like one, and I’d always _begged_ not to have to go back. To face it. _Surely_ the Mage would let me stay. Live with him, if not at Watford. Every year I fooled myself into thinking _maybe_ he might. Maybe if I slew the dragon, like he asked. Or gained control of my magic. Or maybe if I killed the Humdrum and saved the world, like I’m supposed too. Maybe then it would be enough for him to let me _stay._

Whatever I had to face during a school year, the foster house was always worse.

The Mage had been there. He knew what it was like; he could have _stopped it. _

He always made me go _back._

“-Simon? Simon, do you need Baz to do that thing again? We’ll be out of here soon, I promise.”

I’m smoking again. Just a little.

I hadn’t realised… _Merlin_, I could have done it again.

I breathe in, like Baz showed me. It’s hard. “No,” I manage, “no, I’m alright.”

She rubs a hand along my back, “should I ask what you were thinking about?”

I shuffle closer, “I just want to get out of here.”

“Do you want me to cast another ‘_Get Well Soon_?’ You seem tired.”

I shake my head, “probably best not too right now.” The stinging in my cheek is mostly gone; but she’s right. Everything feels like it’s made of lead; moving is an effort. I might _react _though, if she casts another spell. The last one she’d done, after the stars, I’d calmed down enough that it was safe to use magic on me. Penny tells me I feel it more than most, when people use their magic on me.

Baz is the only one who seems to be able to handle mine. I look for him; usually he feels my magic first. He’s sensitive to it, and he always seems to sense when it’s changing, becoming unhinged. He’s sensitive to everything though, I’m not special. Heartbeats, smell, _touch._

Well, maybe that last one is me.

Baz comes back into view, his gate faster. Almost a run. “Fiona called, she’s here,” he says, coming to a stop, “we can leave.”

Penny gets up and holds a hand out for me. I take it, and she helps pull me up with some effort. “Thanks, Pen,” I say, dusting myself off. 

Baz picks a piece grass out of my hair, not really paying attention. “She’s not far,” he says, “she said that there isn’t anybody near the front gate. I checked too, there’s nobody.” 

“With magic?”

He sighs through gritted teeth, “yes, _Penny_. I used magic.”

Penny looks taken aback, but to her credit she doesn’t flinch. “Look, I’m sorry, but are you _sure_. I don’t want to risk it if you weren’t properly able to cast-“

Baz seethes, “I can cast a revealing spell!”

I touch his arm gently, “Baz, you’re bleeding.”

He wipes the blood off his chin with his sleeve, “the spell _worked.”_

I press my lips into a thin line. He _cannot _keep tearing open his wounds like this. I haven’t really _seen, _but they must have cut more when the pulled his fangs. He’s bleeding too much for it to just be from his gums. Hell, talking shouldnt be putting that much _strain _on them, right? His cheeks are still bruised, maybe something else is damaged? Like the inside of his mouth or something? He’s just bleeding a lot.

Penny doesn’t say anything else. But I know she’s going to check anyway when we get there. I trust Baz, but I’d feel better if she did.

Baz changes his attention, letting his arm slip around me, “your magic changed, are you alright?”

I let myself lean into him, so he’s holding a bit of my weight. “I’m fine, Penny helped me.”

He looks to Penny, and I catch a glimpse of something akin to an apology in his eye. “We could wait until dusk?” he offers, reluctantly.

She shakes her head, “they’ll have more time to notice we’re all gone, and find us.”

“Then follow me.”

* * *

**Baz**

Aunt Fiona is parked a bit away from the front gate, as to not be obvious. I don’t think anybody could see us from the grounds. There’s a whole castle wall, a moat and then some before you get to the gate. I heard Penny mutter a revealing spell, and like I’d said, there was nobody there.

Fiona doesn’t say a word as I help Simon into the car, sandwiching him between me and Penny. I’m thankful. She still doesn’t say anything as we pull onto the road. Once we’re well and truly on our way I catch her eyes in the rear-view mirror. They look unsure, confused. Why wouldn’t they be? Simon Snow is holding her nephew's hand, not the famed Agatha Wellbel-

Simon sits bolt upright, panicked. “Wait, _stop_!”

Fiona jumps, slamming the breaks, “_Christ_!”

Simon’s fumbling for his seatbelt, “we’ve got to get Agatha; he’ll think she knows where we’ve gone.”

I only have a moment to wonder if Simon and I are vaguely psychically linked before Fiona starts driving again. I have to keep swatting Simon’s hands away from the seatbelt in fear he’s going to jump out if he gets undone.

“Please, you’ve got to turn around,” he begs, “she’s not safe!”

Fiona is unmoving, “not happening. Baz has obviously decided to glue himself to your hip, so I’m not bloody letting you walk back into the school with him if shit’s hit the fan.”

I fumble, “Fiona, I’m not glued- _We’re _not-“

Penny snaps, “Oh for God’s sake, Baz! You‘ve been holding Simon’s hand for the past ten minutes, _she knows!”_

“Damn right,” Fiona confirms, “ and I want an explanation, to that and what the _fuck _is going on. Your face looks like it was hit with a chair, you called me out of the blue, wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, except that Jon Snow over here was hurt. And the Mage is involved? I’m going to need answers-“

I grip Simon’s hand, “Fiona, please-“

“As soon as you’re _safe.”_

-v---v-

Its dark when we get to the manor, Father and Daphne are waiting outside at the bottom of the steps. I can tell they’re anxious. Father is stiff, cold, while Daphne is jittery. Her expression an open book. We pull up on the drive, gravel churning under the cars tiers. The fountain has been turned off, so there’s that. I fucking hate that thing. Simon’s got his head on my shoulder and his hand in mine, asleep. He’s been like that for an hour or so.

Penny nudges him, because I think she knows I won’t. “Simon,” she tries, “we’re here.”

Fiona slams the car door shut, getting out first. Simon starts awake, looking for the source of the noise. His eyes focus after a second, taking in his surroundings.

I run my thumb over his hand, “need help getting out?”

He shakes his head, “feel better now.”

It’s true, he slides out after me almost as ungracefully as everything else he does. Penny is unconvinced, so while’s she’s checking him over I walk up to Father, following Fiona. No sooner than I get there, Daphne pulls me into an embrace, which I try to return. When she pulls back she brushes my hair aside, her eyes growing wide. “Basil, what happened to your cheeks!”

I push her hands aside, “I’m fine, Mother.”

Father turns to me. “Basilton,” he says, voice unreadable. “I was led to believe it was Snow that was injured?_” _

I try to ignore how painfully aware of everything I suddenly am. I shift, “it’s not that simple, Father.”

“No, I expect not,” he says, turning. “Daphne, dearest. Show our guests inside if you would.”

Fiona protests, for a bit, but soon they all head inside after Daphne. I go to follow them, wanting to get away from the reality of everything for just a moment.

“Not you, Basilton,” my father calls, “we need to have a word.”

I watch my friends disappear up the stairs. Simon lingers, giving me a worried look over his shoulder. I nod reassuringly.

“Is everyone else asleep?” I stall, watching the front doors close behind them.

Father sighs, “why is Simon Snow here, _again?” _

I can’t help it, I kick my shoe into the gravel, hard. “Will you give it a rest!” I growl, “I know you think he’s my enemy. _Our _enemy. But he’s not the Mage, Father! Crowley, he’s not even _like him_.”

“He is on _his_ side, Basilton.”

“But _he’s not_!" I try to draw breath; to calm myself. If I lose my composure I'll lose Fathers ears. "At least, not anymore," I breathe. "Not now.” I can’t really look at him, his gaze is always unwavering. _Unyielding. _

He studies me, “what has you so convinced of this? Something has obviously happened, Fiona called me and recounted what you told her. Which was barely anything, other than it had something to with Simon and the Mage.”

I grind my heal down to the dirt, my eyes starting to sting, “there’s so much…”

Father falters. He’s looking at me now. _Really _looking. Not through me, but at me. I don’t think I’ve cried in front of him before. His hands unclasp from behind his back, “Basil, what’s happened? Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head, trying to will the lump in my throat away, “It’s not that.” I can feel his eyes on my bruises.

“Basil, please. Tell me what he’s done.”

I try to laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “What hasn’t he done?”

“Basilton, if you want me to understand, you’re going to have to explain it to me.”

I don’t think I can.

…_But I have to. This isn’t about my fucking fangs anymore. _

My legs start wobbling. “Father, it was _him.”_

He goes still, and I hear his heart rate raise. “_Him?_ Basilton, who gave you these bruises?”

I start shaking, “He sent them to the nursery, the Mage. It was him-” My voice breaks, and I go to draw breath but I can't. Everything has gone tight. I grasp at my chest. Oh Christ, I can’t breathe.

Father reaches for me, “Son…”

My knees buckle, and the ground starts rushing towards me.

* * *

**Malcolm**

I catch him. I catch my son.

He clings to me like he’s a child again, uneven breaths wracking through him.

I hold him closer. _Crowley and Morgana, Natasha I’m so sorry…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hi! Thanks for reading, there is much more to come! *whispers* The Mage made absolutely sure that Simon would always want to come back to Watford, no matter what he had to fight, because what he faced in foster care was always worse...
> 
> Also, Malcome didn't know if Baz was talking about Simon or the Mage for a bit there.
> 
> PSA
> 
> Australia is having a lot of trouble right now with bush fires. Any help/support you can provide is much appreciated. Raising awareness is of the situation is also really vital. Animals, people and vampires aren't fireproof.
> 
> If you are able, here are a few places you can donate/show support: 
> 
> Red Cross:  
https://www.redcross.org.au/campaigns/disaster-relief-and-recovery-donate?gclid=Cj0KCQiAovfvBRCRARIsADEmbRKB1n8jdk8qS_KNxXmkmrENDobFDuqNOdGF8R8RbLyj-QdhMROZJy4aAq_kEALw_wcB
> 
> WWF: https://www.wwf.org.au/get-involved/bushfire-emergency#gs.p4g9i2
> 
> Koala Crisis: https://donate.wwf.org.au/donate/koala-crisis/koala-crisis?t=AP1119W02&f=41120-213&q=ZW1haWw9JmRvbGxhcmhhbmRsZT0mYW1vdW50PQ==#gs.s6cnl4
> 
> RSPCA:  
https://www.rspcansw.org.au/bushfire-appeal/
> 
> RFS (Rural Fire Service): https://www.rfs.nsw.gov.au/volunteer/support-your-local-brigade


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Sorry for the wait. Had a serious case of writer's block. I had to start a Witcher crackfic series to get over it. 
> 
> Warning: This is not edited, at all! Will definitely fix any typos as I see them.

**Simon**

Fiona glared holes into the back of my head the whole way inside. Baz’s step mum invited Penny and I to go to the main living area while she went and made tea. Seeing someone so polite and civil amongst Baz’s cold and blunt family always feels like it should seem out of place, but it doesn’t. She belongs here; she _is _his family.

So is Fiona, but she is far less accommodating.

She storms into the room after a few minutes, Daphne on her heels. She plants herself on the couch, eyes challenging as Daphne sets the tea down.

“Well?” she says, expectancy.

I frown, “well, what?”

She looks at me like stupid, “_well,_ start explaining. You better bloody include how you know where the living room is, let alone how to get into it.”

Daphne sits down beside her, “Fiona, Simon has been here before.”

“He, _what?”_

Daphne offers the platter to Penny and I, “over the holidays, Simon stayed here to work on a school project with Basil.”

I take one of the cups, offering it to Penny. I take mine too, to be polite, but I don’t really feel like it.

Fiona glowers, “another one of the Mage’s great plans?”

I bristle, “Baz _invited _me to stay.”

She raises an eyebrow, turning to Daphne, “did he now?”

Daphne taps her cup, looking conflicted. “Well, not exactly. At least, he never mentioned he was expecting a friend…”.

_Yeah, because he knew his family would assume it was a bloody murder plot. _“He asked me at school, _before _the holidays.”

Fiona leans forward, “Snow, I don’t know what you’ve said to get him so _infatuated_, but if you’ve been coddling up to him to try and spy for the Mage-“

“I’m _not!_ The Mage thinks that’s what Baz is doing to _me_!”

* * *

**Fiona**

Well that’s interesting. He’s got a wound about the Mage. And poking it is making him squirm.

He’s sensitive about something else too. Basil. He’s being defensive, insistent. Like he wants to _convince _me that they aren’t enemies.

_Baz invited me to stay. _

I know Basil. I’ve known him since he was a tod. I’ve seen him lie, pretend. _Hide._ He’s been doing it all his life. Back in the car… he wasn’t pretending.

But I don’t know Snow.

I’m going to make him squirm.

I narrow my eyes, “perhaps the Mage is right, Basil’s smart. I don’t know why else he would decide to befriend the Mage’s dog.”

Daphne shifts beside me, “Fiona, this isn’t necessary…”

Snow’s hands tighten around his tea, “I’m _not _his _dog.” _He says it through gritted teeth, and his nerdy looking friend looks pretty close to cursing me.

I lean forward, “no? why are your hackles raised than, dog? If the Mage threw a ball would you fetch it?”

“_Fiona!”_

* * *

** ** **Simon**

Baz is in the doorway, and he looks infuriated_._ His eyes are red, and he looks like he’s barely holding it together. My eye’s fall to Malcolm, standing behind him like a shadow. I scrutinise the two _…Surely not. _He wouldn’t-

No, Malcolm's been crying as well.

_Maybe Baz told him? _

_But which bit?_

Daphne must see it too, because she stands, going to her husband. She touches his cheek lightly, having to tilt her head up to see his face. “Malcolm?”

He wraps an arm around her waist, but he looks to Baz. “Basilton,” he says, “take your friends to the guest rooms.”

Penny gets up immediately, pulling me with her, and I realise how tense the air has become. My magic is filling it, making it hot. Fuck, I can’t keep doing this.

“You alright?” Penny whispers as we vacate the room, Baz in the lead. His shoulders are squared, and he’s radiating his ‘pissed off’ energy. I don’t think he’ll turn around until were up the stairs or so. Not while they’re all down there.

“Fine,” I whisper back, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t push it, just nods as we ascend the stairs. Baz doesn’t turn, he takes us down a hallway that I vaguely remember. I hadn’t exactly _stayed_ in my guest room. It’s kind of weird how gothic his house is; I still can’t tell if the lights are electric or gas. I’d guess electric, or _hope_ it. Gas can lead to fire. Baz and fire is very bad. Big circle with a cross through it bad.

Baz comes to an abrupt stop, and still doesn’t turn. He gestures purposefully at the doors on the right-hand side, “these rooms are the nicest. Feel free to make use of them.”

I touch his shoulder lightly, “Baz…”

He ducks his head, still not turning. He’s vibrating, _angry. _And sad too I think. I’m glad he’s not like me, that his magic doesn’t just go _bang _when it’s all too much.

Penny steps forward, “Basil, if you need space…”

He shakes his head, “no, I just- _I’m so sorry. _My family-“ He doesn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence. 

“Your stepmother was quite lovely,” Penny says, and there’s no lie to it.

“My aunt-“ he turns around, to me. “she _cannot _fucking talk to you like that…”

He looks so angry, embarrassed even. I shrug, “I wasn’t exactly expecting a carpet to be rolled out for me.”

He nods, “but she didn’t have too…“

I catch his eye, “it’s _okay_, Baz. Really- Well, it’s not. But we’re fine, yeah? Were out.”

He breathes, nodding his head. “Yeah.”

After a moment he relaxes his posture, like’s he’s mentally shaking himself off. “I assume none of us are going to be doing much sleeping,” he says, turning to Penny, “we have a rather large library with a lot of books we’re not supposed to have, want to see?”

She looks at him like’s he’s just offered her the Tardis.

I smile, the last time I’d been there I’d imagined such a reaction from her. I touch her arm lightly, “hey um, I might just go to bed. Can I borrow your phone? I want to call Agatha’s parents.”

She hesitates, but passes the phone to me anyway “…be careful, we don’t want to clue the Mage in. Tell them to pretend they are bringing her out of school for a holiday, or something that can be bluffed easily.”

I nod, “maybe a horse show or something. She always goes to those, some three-day thing.”

“Eventing,” Baz says.

“Yeah,” I say, “that thing.”

He rolls his eyes, “you dated her for how long?”

I push his shoulder playfully, “lay off, go read your forbidden books.”

He gives me a small smile before offering his arm to Penny, “shall we?”

She hooks her arm in his, “we shall.”

* * *

**Malcolm**

Fiona’s got her head in her hands, breathing deeply. Her shoulders have risen up to her ears in her hunched form. Daphne has gone still, one hand folded in mine. I squeeze her hand, to bring her back to me.

She looks at me sadly, “I’m so sorry, Malcolm.”

Fiona pulls her face away from her hands. “This is an act of _War, _Malcolm. He did it to cease _power_,” she spits.

I can’t do anything but nod.

Her hunched form straightens, “You’re just going to _sit_ there? He _killed _her Malcolm. He killed my sister, your wife, and the mother of your only _son. _Those beasts he sent turned your son into a mo- she hesitates. I think she looks ashamed. Finally, she breathes, “The Mage is responsible for making your son’s life as difficult as it has been.”

I breathe, “I know.”

She stands, “you _know?” _Really, I couldn’t tell you even _cared.”_

Daphne rushes to her feet before I can stop her, “you have _no right _to say such things! None! You saw how he was after…”

Fiona narrows her eyes, “and you just wiggled your way in, didn’t you…”

Rage consumes me. “Fiona!” I warn, standing too. “You should watch your tongue!”

She comes closer, “I just found out my sister was murdered by the fucking Mage! Thirteen years too late!”

I hold my gaze, “you've been angry for a while now, Fiona. Some months. It consumes you.”

She sneers, “at least I feel something."

I ignore the comment, “Fiona, what has happened?”

She hesitates, so she must have expected a retaliation.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she mutters.

_So something has happened. _

I won’t relent, despite this. “Then. Mind. Your. Tongue. We must not lose tact. If we are going to go against the Mage, more than we already have, we need to be careful. We cannot forget that in the eyes of the Coven, _he _in charge. We will need to know how Basilton came by this information, for its reliability to be considered by others.”

Fiona moves closer, “what if the Mage goes to the Coven, tells them we’ve kidnapped his golden child?”

I consider this. It’s undoubtedly a possibility, but why reason would the Mage have to suspect we would harbour our enemy. “You think he would suspect Snow to be here?” I ask.

She looks at me carefully, her eyes flickering to Daphne. “Basil has gotten …closer to Snow.”

I sigh, “yes, I suppose. He allowed him to stay here last holidays.“

A look comes across Fiona’s face. One that undoubtedly is meant to bring my intellect into question. She lifts her eyebrows, as if to suggest… I straighten myself, “I- how did you learn of this?”

She folds her arms, “they were holding hands, in my car. The whole way here.”

I shift, “and you think it is real …their relationship?”

She sits, “I don’t know about Snow, but Baz seems to care about him. _Really _care. On the phone, he’d seemed quite upset. Worried, even. And he never just calls. You know him, Malcom. He could be swallowed by a dragon and would insist on getting himself out rather than call._”_

“So you think that Snow might be a spy?”

She leans forward, hands clasped. “I think it’s a possibility. Baz was insistent that I get Snow away from Watford, but the boy seemed more or less unharmed. It may be an act. One that Baz cant-”

“It’s not.”

Both of us look to Daphne, surprised. “Why do you say this?” I ask.

She takes my hand, her expression softening. “Malcolm, you _must _have seen. When Simon was here last, that boy wore his emotions on his sleeves. He couldn’t hide a thing, so I don’t think he could pretend. Basil, he became so much, well, _more. _He talked more, his music was stronger. Malcolm, I saw him skip stairs to answer the door for _Simon._”

I shake my head, looking away. “That doesn’t mean-“

She places a hand on my cheek, turning my face to her. “You of all people should know that Simon couldn’t have made Baz behave like that if he was pretending,” she says, “Basil’s smarter than that.”

Fiona breathes, “fine. Let’s say that hypothetically, Snow actually does care. What the hell does that mean in terms of the Mage. Snow is still loyal to him, he might put us at risk.”

Basilton's words fill my thoughts. _But_ _he’s not_ _! At least, not anymore. Not now. _

I must consider my son's judgment, even if- I let myself breathe. “Basilton said that Snow was no longer in allegiance with the Mage.”

Fiona lift’s an eyebrow, “and you think that’s true?”

“Basilton believes it.”

Fiona seems to consider this. “When he called…” she begins, “when he said Snow was hurt. He said _the Mage.”_

“The Mage...?”

“He just said his name."

Daphne taps a finger, “Simon may have been the one that learnt the truth about Natasha, and told Basil. The Mage may have turned against him, if he thought he revealed the information.”

“It’s a possibility….”

Fiona looks to the door, as if she expects someone to come through it. “You think there’s more?”

I nod, “you saw his face, there is more.”

* * *

**Simon**

Turns out I still remember where Baz’s room is. He’s sitting on the window seat when I come in, watching the moon through the glass. He’s in his pyjamas, his Watford uniform discarded. Well, more likely folded in a hamper somewhere, but discarded nonetheless. I think he probably reads there’s sometimes. One leg outstretched, the other is bent a bit to rest his book upon, graceful.

Right now he’s got his knees against his chest, head resting against the wall. There’s enough space for another person to sit.

“Ghoul’s in your room again?” he asks.

I smile a little, going over to him. He watches as I sit on the edge, facing him. His eyes are still a bit red. “You alright?” I ask

He shifts, “I’ll talk to Fiona in the morning,” he says. “She’ll come ro-“

“I mean when you came inside the house. You’d been crying, yeah?”

He swallows, looking out the window again. “I told Father what the Mage did. That he was responsible for what happened to my mother.” He pauses, “and me.”

I pull myself onto the window seat, squashing myself up to so I can fit. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen before.”

He shakes his head, “Simon, please don’t do this now…“

I move my legs underneath me, so I’m closer. “No, I have to. I should have- _Crowley _he hurt you and I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to _admit. _I know it’s not an excuse, but I was telling myself that maybe he made a mistake, or thought he was doing the right thing. Christ, I’m _so sorry.”_

I don’t expect a reply. I’m not _arrogant _enough to expect him to forgive me. I wouldn’t expect him too. Not after everything I’ve said. I think I should leave-

But he reaches for me, pulling me back.

“I don’t …I don’t blame you,” he says slowly. “He means a lot to you, Simon.”

“_Meant.” _

He breathes, “are you sure?” 

He says it so kindly, so patiently.

I swallow. “_.._.I don’t know.” It’s barely a whisper.

Baz only nods.

This is so fucked, he shouldn’t have to be friends with someone who still respects- No. I’ll never respect that man again. But he’s still… I can’t even meet Baz’s eye. “I’m sorry,“ I whisper, starting to move again. To leave.

He puts a hand on my knee, stopping me. “Simon,” he breathes, “It’s _okay.”_

No. It’s _not._ Nothing’s been okay, ever. Not now, not before this all happened. Nothing’s been okay our entire lives. Because of him. I feel my chest tighten, and I dig my hands into my trousers, “I hate him, Baz. _So much. _But he’s still like my-” I pause, realising something. “He’s still-“ The words are trapped in my throat, refusing to be spoken.

Baz squeezes my knee, “I know.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> So I heard you guys like fluff and angst.

**Simon**

We’ve ended up curled around each other in the window, the moon rising steadily. I’m lying against his chest, his arms around my middle, keeping me close. Not really thinking about anything, just _being_ with each other. A rare, comfortable silence.

But it’s getting late.

I run a thumb over the back of his hand, “bed?”

He rests his chin on my shoulder, his hair tickling the side of my neck. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep much,” he says, sounding resigned.

I let myself lean into him more, ”me either.”

He hums, “does your cheek still hurt?”

I thread my fingers into his, “nah.”

He presses a kiss to my temple, “shall we stay here, then?”

I wiggle down a bit so I’m resting my head against his chest, “hmm.”

He runs a hand through my hair as I settle. I can hear his heartbeat like this, it’s a sort of proof that he’s alive. It’s still loud. _Faster,_ like it had been before. But Baz doesn’t_ seem_ scared, just troubled. “It really is louder,” I mumble.

“What is?”

I can _hear_ the frown in his voice. “Your heart,” I say, listening closer. It’s usually so slow. And there’s a …_warmth _there? It's like his blood is pumpi- I pull away suddenly, a jolt of panic running to my own heart. “You haven’t fed!” I exclaim.

He groans, leaning back. “Fuck.”

I look out the window again; eyes settling on the woods outsides Baz’s house. “It’s not far,” I say.

Baz runs a hand over his face, “I wish you hadn’t said that. I’d almost forgotten how hungry I am.”

I push myself out of his lap, facing him. “I could bring you something ba-“

“_No_,” Baz barks, a little too quickly.

I frown, “what-“

He takes a breath, “sorry, I- You don’t need to… I’ll go; I know my way through the woods better.”

“Alright,” I say, studying him closely.

He gets up, grabbing his discarded blazer from the bedpost. “I’ll be back soon.”

I watch him go, and uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach.

Something isn’t right.

* * *

**Baz**

It had been nice, to hunt without looking over my shoulder so much. Sometimes I forget what that’s like. No Mage, no students, no spying ghosts in the shadows. Just the monsters that roam the woods and their prey. My prey.

Deer have more blood, so I don’t follow my earlier tactic with the goat to kill it. It would take too long to die, to bleed out, even with me hurrying the process along. 

I break its neck.

It’s harder than usual.

I cast my spell, watch the strip of red appear at its throat. No bite marks anymore. More brutal. More mess.

I drink.

* * *

**Simon**

I follow him, and it feels like when we were kids and it was all a game of cat and mouse. Never quite knowing who was the mouse and who was the cat. Me, utterly fixated on confirming my suspicion. And he, able to put an _end_ to it if I ever went too far or saw too much, and never doing just that.

He breaks the deer’s neck easier than I can swing my sword. It’s quick. I don’t think the deer even heard him approach. The moon provides enough light through the gaps in the trees for me to see. He drinks, and there’s nothing seductive or beautiful about it like there is in the films. He’s holding onto it tightly, his body almost shaking as he drinks. Long, desperate swallows.

It’s horrific. Monstrous.

But it’s Baz.

And he’s neither of those things.

He’s starving.

There’s a gasp, like he’s coming up for breath, and he falls back onto his heel.

And sits

He’s just …sitting.

Why doesn’t he get up? Does he need to wait a bit for it to go down? Is he in shock? Does that happen? I’ve never thought about it. Drinking something’s blood can’t be pleasant, and Baz never talks about it. Even before. He’s just sitting there, hands on his knees.

I creep a little closer. Something had seemed wrong before? Is this it? Is this why he never wants me to see? Because he goes into shock? I want to go to him, but I think that might be the last straw. If this is normal, I should wait. _See._ If it gets worse than I’ll-

Baz gags, falling forward onto his hands and knee, blood dripping from his mouth. He convulses horribly. Red. So much red. 

I abandon my hiding spot and run, falling to my knees beside him. I don’t give a fuck if he doesn’t want me to see.

He stiffens, “Simon-“ sitting back up, but then it happens again.

His hair falls into his face, so I bring it behind his ears. Just in time. “Christ, Baz…” I mumble, taking hold of his shoulder, so he doesn’t fall into the mess . I don’t know what else to do.

“Simon,” he gasps, trying to move out of my grasp, “get away. I asked you not-“

I hold on, “Baz, why are you.._.” _

He growls, “Simon, _let g-.” _He chokes on his words, falling forward again. More blood. There_ cannot_ be any left. Merlin and Morgana, there can’t be. All that blood…

I find his other shoulder, “Baz, what was that? Are you hurt?”

He spits, red. “I don’t know.”

He’s breathing is less shallow now, so I think he must be done. I help him sit back on his heels, an arm around his middle, “was the deer _bad_ or something?” I say. “Did you drink too much? Merlin, do you need water, or-“

He pushes my hands away. “No, Simon. Look, you’re getting blood on you. Just move away.”

I hold on, “I’m not letting you fall in your own sick, Baz.”

He sags in my hold, a small resigned breath escaping him. “It wasn’t the deer.”

I frown, “well then why-“

“I can’t keep it down.”

I pause. 

The silence is deafening. 

Baz shifts, “Simon…”

I tighten my hold, a pit in my stomach forming, “what do you mean?”

“The blood,” he says, voice low, “I haven’t been able to keep it down since it happened.”

And suddenly I’m angry.

Had none of it… All this _time_. I thought he was healing. He said he was _fine. _A growl leaves me, “Baz, you should have said something!”

His hand leaves my arm, going to his knee. “I know… It was just a quarter or so the first time, so I didn’t… I thought I was just adjusting.”

I swallow, feeling my teeth grind. Now I’m just angry at the world. For not letting Baz have a moment, a day, to just breathe. “Has it been this bad before?” I say, eventually.

“No,” he manages, “not this bad.”

I let my hand fall over his abdomen. He feels thinner too, I realise_._ “Are you… are you getting weaker?” I ask, hesitant.

“I didn’t lose all of it the last few times,” he says slowly. “And there was the blood puddings.”

He’s only had… “That’s not _enough, _Baz!”

“I know!” he snaps. “…I know. Look, I don’t _want _this to be happening, but I think…” He breathes shakily. “I think that without my fangs, the blood is like poison to me. At least, my stomach thinks so.”

“Humans aren’t supposed to drink blood…” I mumble. I’d read about it when I’d first suspected what he might be. Wondering.

He growls, “I’m not human, Simon!”

What can I say. That he is? He’s not- of course he’s not. But sometimes I think he thinks that means he’s without humanity. Even humans can be without that. Real monsters. Mages and Normal’s alike. I think I should remind him of that.

His stomach growl under my hand, and a moment later I hear a small whimper, muffled under his hand. Is he crying? I find the hand that’s still digging into the knee of his jeans, and hold it in mine. “Baz?” 

“I’m so _hungry.”_

And then I wonder.

I remember.

“This might sound stupid,” I warn, “but have you …eaten anything lately?”

He pulls his hand away, “I just _tried, _Simon!”

I shake my head, letting go of him so I can move and actually see his face, wary of the bloodied ground. “I mean regular food,” I amend, “we left before lunch, and I know you haven’t had the chance to eat since then.”

His eyes darken, “I need blood, not a sandwich.”

I shrug, finding the bottom of my shirt with my fingers. “I don’t know, maybe you’re just regular-hungry, and are sick from not eating much.” I twist the fabric in my fingers, “when you don’t eat for a while, _anything_ in your stomach can make you feel sick. Even if you’re really hungry.”

* * *

**Baz**

I feel my teeth clench, watching as he fidgets.

The Mage _left_ _him_ in that place.

Again, and _again. _

Year.

After.

_Year._

* * *

**Simon**

He’s looking right at me, but he seems to be somewhere else. I nudge him gently, “Baz?”

Swallowing, his expression loses all traces of …whatever it was he was thinking about. It’s almost softer. “Simon,” he says, sounding almost careful, “I don’t think that’s why…”

I let go of my shirt, “could we just try? That way we’ll know for sure.”

“Whether I’m dying, you mean,” he says grimly.

“No,” I say firmly, “it will rule out whether there’s something else going on or not.”

He looks at me carefully, “alright.”

* * *

**Baz**

Simon Snow is making me soup.

In my family kitchen, in the middle of the night.

Merlin and Morgana, I think I must have died, for there is no way this could be real.

But I haven’t, and he’s there. Making me soup.

We’d gone back to my room to change into something less bloodied, and Simon finally gets out of his Watford uniform. He has to borrow my clothes, and they’re a bit small, and a bit long, but it’s sort of endearing. I also want to set fire to our uniforms but Simon wouldn’t approve. Because of the fire, not the uniforms. ‘_You’re bloody flammable, Baz,’ _he would say. ‘_So is everything,’ _I would say, setting the clothes on fire.

Oh, to dream.

Soon after entering the kitchen, I’d cast a small silencing spell at my own expense. It proves to have been quite wise. Simon is fucking _loud _at cooking. Louder than my bloody stomach, too. He still has Penny’s phone and he’s using it to play music while he cooks. And of course it’s Elvis. The soup smells _wonderful _though. I hadn’t even known he could cook. Well, I suppose soup isn’t too complicated. Actually I think it’s a broth, judging by the ingredients and how he’s making it. More liquid than anything else, easy to keep down. ‘_Still food’_, as he had said. He's happy; I think he's convinced himself that this is the solution. I suppose I have to try then. 

He’s got his back to me, turned to the stove. He looks kind of ridiculous in my pyjamas, because they’re unmistakably mine. Watching him, a warmth grows in my chest. An overwhelming affection. He’s making me food, because he was worried I was hungry.

The warmth grows.

I push off the counter and go to him, sliding my arms around his middle. It’s a good thing I’m taller, because I can hook my chin over his shoulder and pretend that I’m watching him cook.

“Careful of the stove,” he says, swaying with me a little, a chuckle hidden in his voice.

I hum, pressing my face into his shoulder as I move with him, soaking in his warmth. He’s always so warm.

His hands find mine, “Baz, you okay?”

More warmth. So much warmth.

I press a kiss into the back of his shoulder, “I love you.”

Simon just about melts.

* * *

**Simon**

I melt.

* * *

**Baz**

I smile, placing my chin back on his shoulder, “soup is burning.”

His hands dart for the gages, “oh shit.”

I refuse to let go.

-v---v-

I think that perhaps, he may have been just a little bit right.

I’m less hungry.

But I’m not sure if it’s just in the human way.

I’ll find out later, I suppose.

I’ll crave it again.

But right now I’m just going to pretend that it’s all fixed and let myself lie here, my head in Simon’s lap; his fingers carding through my hair.

“Have you told them about what happened yet?”

Never mind.

I sigh, opening my eyes. “No, not yet.”

He takes a section of my hair in his hands, “you going to?”

I know he means _when. _And he’s probably right, there isn’t an option with this. I _need_ to tell them. Because if I don’t they’ll find out themselves, and that will be so much worse. I stare at the ceiling, “I don’t really have a choice.”

He nods, and I can vaguely see him trying to twist three separate strands of my hair, a look of deep concentration on his face.

He’s trying to braid my hair.

* * *

**Simon**

Baz’s shoulders start shaking.

I freeze, “Baz?”

He’s got his hand over his face, but I think he’s crying. Fuck, I shouldn’t have asked him about it. Fuck, shit fuck. I hold onto his shoulder, “Baz? Please talk to me.”

Baz makes a sound, and the hand falls away from his face.

He’s fucking laughing.

I gape, “Baz, what the hell?”

“You’re such an idiot, Simon,” he laughs, a lopsided smile on his face. And then he’s moving up, and I’m going down. His hands are on my shoulders, and my lips are on his.

I think I’ll keep being an idiot forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the Elvis song in the kitchen was 'cant help falling in love.'
> 
> Sorry, this one was late as well, have been very distracted because I've become hyper-fixated on The Witcher and decided to spontaneously give fan videos a go. They're really hard, and take forever. So kudos to everyone who makes them all the time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Heyo! 
> 
> So, the world really did that. I'm back though! I had to split this chapter as I reaaaaaaly wanted to post something, but the other half is on the way!

**Baz**

I’m still not sure if I’m any good at his, Simon’s usually taken the lead when it comes to this sort of thing. He knows what to do, how to move his lips in just the right way, so that- Oh, yes. Just like that. I let my body move against his, my lips wandering. He gasps, grip tightening in my hair. I smile against his skin, enjoying how he feels under me. I want to hear him make more of those noises. His hand slides under my shirt, bringing warmth over my skin. “I love you…” I mumble, trailing kisses along his jaw. I say it again, enjoying the soft noises he makes as I slowly move down his neck. I’m kissing his freckles, mapping a path to the base of his neck. I bite the skin there gently, careful not-

His breath hitches. 

Did I just- I pull away with a start, realising. “_Fuck_. I’m sorry, I-“

Simon grabs my arm, “no- I mean…” He offers me a smile, “I liked it.”

That’s nonsense, I can hear how fast his heart is going, and his breath. He’s-

“Oh,” I whisper.

Simon chuckles, “oh?” 

I don’t move, “you didn’t think I was trying to, well…”

Simon lets his head fall back onto the carpet, stifling a laugh. “I knew it wasn’t that kind of bite.” 

I study him carefully, “…want me to do it again?” 

* * *

**Simon**

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

_Holy shit._

* * *

**Baz**

  
Simon Snow is going to need to wear a collared shirt tomorrow. 

_Tomorrow. _

Fuck, what time is it? Is it tomorrow? I pull away for a moment, peering over at the window. It’s still dark, but the moon is no longer high in the sky. I wouldn’t be able to see it if it was. I let my head fall against his chest with a sigh. Fuck, there’s going to be so many questions tomorrow, and we’ll both be so tired… 

Reluctantly, I press a quick kiss to skin. “Come on,” I say, “bed.” 

I hear his heart skip a beat. 

“To sleep, you numpty,” I say, rolling my eyes. 

Simon feigns a pout, getting to his feet, and I’m left with the sensation that this is in fact, my life. One of the few good parts. 

And it’s true. 

* * *

**Simon**

The second I’m on my feet I realise the sense in going to bed. I’m fucking tired. Happy, in love, definitely. But also fucking tired. I think I’ve felt every possible emotion under the sun in just a few days, and then here Baz is, making feel a whole set of new ones. Well, familiar, but I’ve never felt them like _this_.

Baz suddenly looks a little lost, so I take his hand, guiding him over to his bed. I pull the covers back, climb underneath. I tug gently on his hand, and he comes easily, falling in beside me. 

“You all good?” I ask, cause he still hasn’t said anything. Snarky or otherwise.

He hums, moving closer. 

I pull the covers over us, “right, uh. That’s good then.”

“Sleep,” he mumbles. 

I think that might actually be a possibility. 

  
-v---v-

  
I watch Baz button up his shirt. It’s got this nice pattern to it, and its colour makes the grey of his eyes seem a little blue. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing him out of his uniform. At least he’s not wearing jeans, I think I’d go mad if he did. I’m wearing them though, his jeans. It was that or my uniform trousers; Baz wouldn’t let me touch his fancy slacks. They look better on him anyway. He gave me one of his collared button-ups as well; at this point I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him in the possession of a t-shirt. 

Baz goes over to his mirror, and I watch as he inspects his jaw, brow furrowed. I think it looks a lot better, but I’ve seen what it looked like before. His family haven’t. 

“My siblings might be frightened…” 

I go over to him, take his hand, “they’ll be _worried_, not frightened. Plus, your sisters live in the ‘haunted house on the hill’, so there’s that.”

Baz exhales, deeply. “Simon, this is _obviously_ the Addams family house, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I snort, “does that make you Pugsley?” 

Baz turns, “how dare you, I’m clearly Wednesday Addams.” 

I let go of his hand to raise mine in surrender, “right, sorry. Should have known.”

Baz smiles, just a little. It’s more in his eyes. 

The distinct smell of food distracts me, bloody hell it’s strong. Eggs and bacon? The Pitches, making eggs and bacon. Huh. We’ll probably be expected down soon then. Probably not at the same time either. I rub the back of my neck, “hey, um... do you want me to come down a bit later? If you don’t want-“

Baz takes hold of my hand, “absolutely not.” 

* * *

  
**Baz**

We go downstairs, together. 

Bunce is already there, deeply engaged in a conversation with mother. I suspect it’s about how magical empathise can be put into words, or something of the like. Mother has always been very interested in that area, and Bunce never shuts up about it. Poor mother is trying to be polite, calmly endeavouring to keep Evalyn in her highchair whilst she talks. I can’t see Fiona, but that’s not unusual. She doesn’t get up until past 11 am anyway. 

Father is making a point at not looking up from his breakfast, which he doesn’t appear to have touched. He’s got the paper open though, so he’s not completely in his head.

“Baz! You’re back!” 

I look just in time to see a little blur rushing towards me, her hair ribbon flying, before she stops short in front of me. 

Joci looks at me for a moment, chewing on her ribbon. “Why is your face all beaten-up?” 

“Well,” I say, scooping her up, “I was terribly clumsy in my last football game, fell right on my face.”

Father looks over at me, studying me. I can practically see him trying to infer what I might mean. 

Joci touches my bruises tentatively, before pressing a quick kiss to each cheek. “Better?” 

I smile, “yes, thank you.” 

Simon is watching me, with a frankly ridiculous amount of fondness in his eyes. Blushing, I move to put Joci back in her chair. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Penny is not helping, either. She is terrible at hiding her obvious enjoyment at my embarrassment. 

Looking away, I notice that Joci’s eggs are untouched. Perfect, a distraction. I tap her plate, “you better eat those, or else you might find yourself tripping over in football games as well.” 

She begins eating them immediately. 

I sit down next to Mordelia, leaving the only remaining chair next to Penny. Simon might be able to save mother. Mordelia pokes her tongue out at me, her usual greeting. I stick mine out back. 

Simon tries to hide a laugh, failing miserably. 

Shaking my head, I take my fork and dive in. Politely, obviously. But those eggs smelt delicious, and I’m absolutely starving. I take a bite, and almost groan from how good it is. Magic tables have nothing on a Pitch’s cooking. 

And then I notice the obvious absence of Penny or mothers voice.

Heavens, I didn’t actually groan, did I? I look up, and find I have become the centre focus of mother and father. Penny looks at me, her expression commanding my attention. She has a remarkable ability to communicate full sentences without saying anything at all. Her eyes fall to my plate.

I look at my plate, confused. Was I not supposed to eat-

Oh.

That’s exactly it. 

Shit. 

I look to Simon, silently asking for help. 

He gets it, after a moment. He turns to father, “do you mind if I look at that paper, Sir?” 

Father unfreezes, as if coming out of a trance, and passes Simon the newspaper. At least he isn’t staring anymore. 

* * *

  
**Simon**

Shit, shit, shit. Baz forgot. 

At least, I think that’s what happened. Last time I was here, he didn’t eat in front of them, cause his fangs popped out. He just sat their politely and took the food to his room later, or ate it up in his room.

He must be hungry though, because after a few moments, he starts eating again. Slowly, like he’s trying not to draw attention to himself. 

Better not stare at him then. 

I look at the paper, reading the page Malcolm had open when he passed it.

I grow cold. 

A new dead spot, in the middle of London. 

The humdrum. 

Fuck, how- I’d _forgotten. _

I forgot I had to worry about him. Fight him. 

He wasn’t important. 

Baz was. 

Is. 

Penny nudges me with her knee, “let me see.” 

I pass the newspaper, swallowing. I can see her reading the words in my head, even though I’m not looking. I know she’s got that furrow in a brow she always gets when she’s thinking. In the corner of my eye I see her push up her glasses, turning to me. 

“Simon, can I have my phone back please, I’d like to call my mum later.”

I nod, pulling the phone out of my pocket and passing it to her. She takes my wrist instead, holding it steady. 

“You okay?”

My magic doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode just yet, so that’s got to count for something. I’m just… anxious. I give her a curt nod. Anxiety can’t hurt them if it gets stronger, so it doesn’t matter.

She takes the phone.

* * *

**Malcolm**

The Snow boy wants to leave. He’s wanted to for quite some time now, and the completion of breakfast has only seemed to intensify his need. He’s fidgeting incessantly where he sits, looking over at my son every so often. 

I am thankful my daughters are far too young to have picked up on the obvious shift of mood this breakfast, happily eating away why the rest of sat in an uncomfortable silence. 

Basilton had eaten in front of us, and a lot of food at that, yet his fangs had not appeared. 

He’d decided a very long time ago that he wouldn’t eat in front of us. I think he believed it bothered us to see evidence of his vampirism. Yet, he had done so just now, without the appearance of his fangs.

Had he gained control over the impulsion? 

It seemed his friends are aware of his habit. The girl, Bunce. She’d had a similar reaction, finally ceasing her endless conversation, however remarkable. How many of Basilton’s friends knew?

Breakfast finished, Basilton start to rise, already looking towards the Snow boy. I clear my throat, “Basilton, if you and your guests could remain here for a moment.” He sits immediately, though his expression could do with some improvement. 

I sit silently, waiting for the room to clear. Mordelia drags her sisters off somewhere, likely to investigate the ‘hidden’ room I told them about last night, before they’d gone to bed. Solving a few puzzles would keep them occupied for a while. Daphne had planned a surprise at the end for them. I have the horrible suspicion it’s an animal.

More pressingly, I need to figure out what in the seven hells has happened to my son. 

Now alone, Basilton’s guests look like they’re being held under wand-point. I sigh, “I am sure you can all understand that any questions I might have are a result of the sheer elusiveness of yesterday’s events.”

Basilton exhales, “Father-“

“I am speaking, Son,” I take care to keep my authority in my voice’s strength, not in its volume. Shouting is undignified, and suggested the loss of authority. “Late yesterday afternoon,” I continue, “you called Fiona and demanded her to pick you up with no explanation, other than ‘the Mage’. You told her Simon was hurt, but yet I see no injury. When you arrived, I see bruises across _your_ face, and you tell me the mage was responsible for your mother’s death. I have some questions, son.”

I watch Basilton’s friends carefully. Suggesting that their head-mage was a murderer didn’t draw any expressions of outrage or disbelief, so the idea isn’t foreign to them. “I wish to speak to all of you individually," I say, "I won’t be led to believe false tales that might threaten my family’s safety. Son, I will speak to you first.” I turn to the girl, “Miss Bunce, if you would use this time to call your mother, I suggest you do not report any war-starting information about The Mage just yet.” 

She gapes at me, as if offended. Good, she won’t then, probably to prove a point. It’ll keep her from talking to Snow as well. I rise from my seat and turn for the living room, Basilton following silently behind me. 

I take a seat in one of the armchairs, and Basilton sits across from me. I try to relax; so he might. I don’t wish to interrogate him, last night had not been easy. He’s also fidgeting. 

He never fidgets. 

I pick up a book from the table, “I will not force you to speak. You may do so when you are ready. I will not angry, just tell me when you so I can understand.”

And so, I read. 

And read. 

And read.

“Mother visited Simon”

Well. 

That wasn’t what I expected. 

I put down my book, “I’m not sure I follow.” 

Baz lifts his eyes to me, for a moment, “when the veil lifted, I wasn’t there. Simon was, she spoke to him. Told him to find Nicodemus, because he knew who did it. That’s what Simon was doing here over Christmas, helping me. We found him, learnt who he was, but he wouldn’t tell us anything.”

Simon told him this information, helped? Perhaps he-

“Before you say it, Father. Simon was not working for the Mage. The mage wouldn’t send Simon to uncover a murder he committed. And he wasn’t lying either, if you paid more attention you would know he’s hopeless at it.”

I breathe, “Snow might not have known what he was getting into, it doesn’t prove that he hasn't been giving the Mage information, with or without ill-intent.” 

Basilton bristles, “you said you would listen.” 

He waits, as if he expects me to interrupt. I don’t. 

“We got… closer. Became friends.” Basilton swallows, “he saved my life, Father. He saved it from me.”

I feel my heart freeze, “Basil…” He fidgets again, won’t make eye contact. 

His voice shakes, “when we went back to school, the Mage pulled me out of class, said he wanted to work with me to… improve the safety of Watford.” He tries to wipe his tears before I see, breath laboured. “He-“ His voice wavers, and the tears fall.

Something is so very wrong. 

I find myself holding him, like I had last night. When he’d told me about Natasha. Whatever it is has hurt him more. ”Son, let me help you” I say gently, keeping my own voice as steady as I can, “what has he done?”

He nods, gripping my arms. “I fought, I promise I fought, but they held my mouth open.” He starts to shake, “Father, he took my_ fangs_.“

I hold on to him, and I can hear my own heart in my chest. The anger threatening to set alight. And surely, I will let it. But not now. Not when- I’d never thought… I breathe, “Basil… you don’t, you don’t have to explain any more if-“

He shakes his head, “Simon, he- He’s been looking after me. Found me food these last few days. Blood. Penny too. She’s the one that figured it out. About mother.” 

I file that information away for when I speak to Mrs Bunce. I have many questions, by Basil fingers are digging into my arm now. I’m not sure how to reassure him, other than to keep listening.

“-and the Mage, he wanted Simon to… I think he used my fangs, for a potion. Wanted Simon to drink it.” He takes another breath; a tremble within it. “Simon refused, and the Mage- he struck Simon so hard he went off, and we panicked. I called Fiona. Came here.” 

I wait for him to compose himself, for his breath to slow, keeping my own in check. “The Mage, do you know what he intended by giving Simon your… the potion?”

Basilton glances at the door, for a moment. “I think the Mage believed it would improve Simon's magical capabilities.”

“Did he drink it?”

Basilton looks up at me again, and his eyes have darkened. Anger, I assume. 

“I told you Simon refused it, he has the bruise to prove it,” he hisses.

I look at my son’s scars, the way they’ve preserved impressions of his attackers’ hands. What they must have done, to be able to take his fangs. Snow may as well have had a light flush to his face, the damage seemed so little. To have only fled after Snow had his confrontation raises suspicion in my mind. Why would Snow not urge my son to leave sooner, if he did indeed care? Perhaps he could not reject the Mage? 

“You said he went off?” I ask, Basil has mentioned something like this to me, I’m sure of it. There have been countless tales over the years of Snow’s failings in magic. How he was unable to control his power.

Basil looks at me, calculating. Like he’s choosing his words. Perhaps it’s a vulnerability of Snow’s? Something beyond simple ineptness. 

“The Mage has never struck Simon, the shock made him lose hold of his magic.” 

I know that's not all of it, but I won’t press. Not yet. I’ll be talking to Snow soon, if he wishes to stay here. “You said he helped you with feeding, how long has he known?”

Baz almost snorts, “I’m pretty sure he’s known since fifth year, Father.” 

“_Basilton_.” 

“Father.”

I breathe, “was there anyone else who knew of your condition?” 

He shakes his head, starts to pull away. “No, but-“

“Then how can you be certain that Snow did not play a part in this? Knowingly or otherwise.” I say it without accusation, but love can make you blind. Basilton has to think, no matter how much he cares for the boy. "If no one else knew, Son, there is no other way the Mage could have learnt the information than from Simon."

Basilton rises to his feet, jaw set.

"Son-"

“I know what this is about,” Basilton says, voice low.

I frown, “I say these things not to hurt you, or because of any prejudice you think I have. But the situation calls for a level of-”

Basilton slams the door, and the walls shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos/errors. Will get onto them ASAP.
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> So I completely forgot that Baz has twin sisters, but I'm in too deep to change it now. So we have Mordelia, Josephine and Evalyn.
> 
> Anyways, here's chapter 17!

** Baz**

I can’t listen to this anymore. He’ll look for anything he can in my words for proof of conspiracy, anything that proves Simon is anything less than what I believe. Say’s it’s because Simon is close to the Mage, not to be trusted. I’m not that stupid. 

His composure will crack later, because of what I’ve told him. He always does this, gathers information first, feels later. Like with my mother. I can see it burning behind his eyes, waiting to explode in private. Everyone always tells me I’m like my mother, but I think I’m like him with this, in a way. Except I favour towards portraying the opposite emotion of what I’m feeling. Or so I’ve realised. 

Several years after everyone else. 

‘Please see all interactions with Simon Snow up until your eighth year at Watford for reference,’ they would say. 

Merlin, it’s a miracle we even managed to co-exist in the same room all those years without breaking the Anathema. All those years, playing a game of cat and mouse with him. Vampire? Or not a Vampire? He’d followed me down to the catacombs a few times. He lingered, never going down to the tombs. Afraid of the dark, I think. He found the dead rats once, drained. I’d been careless; I think he thought I’d left them as a joke, to tease him for thinking me a vampire. He’d started wearing a cross after that.

He told everybody that listened, once he’d fixated on the idea. It had been like a mantra, “Baz is a vampire, here’s why.” No one believed him, Merlin, I think most people just thought he was jealous because he’d been kicked of the team. 

He would have told Penny, but Penny’s not that stupid. She’d need proof, to see it for herself before she ran off to the Mage, if she did at all. Agatha, well, Agatha probably wouldn’t have cared, if she’d believed him at all. There’s no one that would have believed him enough to tell the Mage, except-

_ If no one else knew, Son, there is no other way the Mage could have learnt the information than from Simon. _

Oh, Christ. 

* * *

** Simon **

When Baz appears, I almost knock over my chair in my haste to stand. His eyes are all red again, and he looks pale. A different sort of pale to his usual vampirey complexation, the sort that makes him look like he’s somewhere else, in his mind. I think he must have told his father then, about what happened. I know it’s probably a good thing, but I don’t like that he looks so far away. I go over to him, wanting to bring him back.

“Hey,” I say, touching his arm. “You okay?” 

He nods, a little shaky. “Father will want to speak with you in a moment.”

I blink. “Oh,” I say, my hand falling away, “right, yeah. Penny’s, um, out in the garden, I think. If you want to find her.” 

“Probably not a good idea for Father to find me speaking to her right before he does.” 

He won’t meet my eye, and I’m not quite sure what’s wrong. I’ve seen him cry before, so it can’t be that. But he has a point that, his dad would probably think she was fact-checking or something. 

“Right,” I say, running a hand over my hair, “probably not a good idea, yeah.”

He offers me a small smile, and soon he’s disappearing behind another door. I haven’t been in this house long enough to quite know where it goes. Malcolm appears in front of another, silently waiting for me. I gather myself, best as I can, and follow him into the room. 

-v---v-

I sit, pulling at the knees of my jeans. Malcolm’s made tea; put some in front of me. I haven’t decided if it’s a good idea to drink it or not. We’ve been here for several minutes, and he hasn’t said a word. He just goes about drinking his own tea. I can see Baz in him, in the way that he sits. Looking down at you while they sit, all cavalier in manner whilst you slowly lose your composure. 

That’s what I’m doing. Losing my composure. 

And he just sits, holding his tea.

I glare. 

He takes another sip. 

“Are you going to ask me any questions or not?” I grit. 

He blinks at me, silent. 

I bunch the fabric of my jeans. I know what he’s playing at. Baz used to do this to me, when I was frustrated with him. Which was the majority of the time back then. He’d stare at me, slowly destroying any confidence I had until I was left stuttering over my words. In fairness, it had actually been a pretty good tactic. It usually resulted in me storming over to my bed and staying there, pissed off and confused as to how he’d done that. 

This was a game of authority. Patience. 

I need to wait. Something I’ve never been good at. 

I’m not about to start now. 

I exhale, “look, I’m not sure what you said to him, Sir, but Baz looked right put out. So I think he must have told you what happened to him, and you want to know where exactly I fit into all this?” 

He stirs his tea, “and what did happen to my son, Mr Snow?” 

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid._

I should have bloody _asked_ Baz if he’d told him. I don’t- If I’m wrong and Baz hasn’t said anything, and I do first… Baz will ever forgive me. I swallow, hoping that whatever I say is coherent. “Well, it’s why we’re here, and not at Watford.” 

He looks at me sharply, “is it.” 

It’s an accusation. 

_ Why are you only here now? _

I shift, “well, yes. I mean no- It’s a part of it.”

Shit, that came out wrong. Why the hell hadn’t I- we should have left _sooner. _If I’d _listened, _and not waited until I was quite literally hit across the face with the truth- 

“Part of what, exactly?” 

If he’s accusing me of only leaving when I was hurt, then I’m going to take the risk of assuming Baz told him what happened. I breathe, “Sir, I know you saw Baz at breakfast this morning, and like I said, I think he must have told you what happened, considering the way he was when he came out of this room.” 

“And as I said, what _happened?”_

I try to relax, “Listen, I know what I said, but if I'm wrong… I don’t- I don’t want to say something he isn’t yet read to say to you, Sir.” 

Malcolm studies me, for a moment, and something in the way he’s composed changes. He sits back in his chair, taking a breath. “Mr Snow, if you wish to stay here, with even the smallest amount of my trust, you are going to have to help me understand _exactly_ how you fit into this.”

I draw back, “you think I…” 

“I don’t think anything, Mr Snow. I speculate.” 

I pick at my jeans again, “I swear if I knew what the Mage had been planning, I would have… The school would be needing a new headmaster, Sir.”

Malcolm ignores the comment, “how long have you known of Baz’s condition?” 

“It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Malcolm ignores the comment, “I’m asking you how long you’ve known.” 

I try to meet his eye, “not since last Christmas, Sir. I’d wondered, loudly, I’ll admit, for a few years before that. Though I swear I never told anyone, proved it. Especially after I knew for sure.” 

“You didn’t think that suddenly ceasing your accusations would raise suspicion?” 

I sigh, “I think most people just thought I gave it up, Sir.” It’s true, maybe in the younger years people listened, but we were more gullible then. Most seemed to assume I’d grown out of the idea. I hope.

Malcolm taps the side of his teacup, “you were here last Christmas, you said it was for a project?” 

I nod, “we were working on something.” 

“Schoolwork?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. _He can help_, I tell myself, but he has to know what’s going on. I breathe, “something more important, about Baz’s mom.”

Something changes in Malcolm again, and I think I might actually know what he’s thinking for the first time. Merlin, I think I even understand.

“Why would you have any interest in such things?” he says, voice the faintest bit quieter. Once again, I only notice it because I’ve noticed it in Baz. 

“I know Baz went missing,” I say. “He told me what happened, but when he was gone, the veil lifted. I saw Natasha, I think she was looking for Baz. I was there instead, and she told me something; wanted me to tell it to Baz.”

Malcolm’s stare loses its steadiness, for just a moment. “May I ask what she said?” 

He misses her, I realise. Obviously, I’d assumed that, but I’m seeing it now. I only wish it was a message that he’d want to hear.

“She said her killer still lives.”

-v---v-

I tell him what happened, how we went looking for Nicodemus. He bristled as the name, and I thought of the photo of Fiona and Nicodemus. Thought of Ebb losing her brother. I didn’t tell him what Baz tried to do, that night in the forest. I’m not sure if it’s my place to tell. I tell him what the Mage did, and why. How Penny figured it out. I’m guessing she’s going to get the interrogation of a lifetime. I tell him about what happened with the potion, about my magic. Why we ran.

He’s right, about needing information to trust me. I guess I got to show a little trust myself. 

When I’m done, he excuses me, gives me directions to the kitchen for food. 

Probably shouldn’t tell him I’m all too familiar with how to get there. He doesn’t tell me to get Penny, so I expect he’ll find her himself. I want to find her myself, but I remember what Baz said, about Malcolm thinking we were fact-checking each other. 

I better find Baz then. 

Except maybe he wants to be alone for a bit… He’d been a bit reserved earlier, quiet. Maybe I should check, in case it’s one of his ‘don’t come near me, but please done leave me alone’ moods.

Yeah, I should probably check. 

But which way did he go? 

* * *

** Daphne **

I don’t know how impressed Malcolm will be with the small ball of fluff currently being cradled by Mordelia, but I expect he’ll be dotting on it in a matter of hours. For now, the poor kitten must endure the gentle but persistent petting of the girls. 

Its name is currently being determined. Ugly, has been proposed, curtesy of Josephine. Spot, by Evalyn, despite its lack of spots. And Carrot, by Mordelia. Due to its bright orange colour, that seems to be the most appropriate. Poor Evalyn just keeps repeating ‘spot’ not quite able to manage any other names just yet.

I expect they will be getting hungry again soon, and will likely insist on bringing the kitten to the table with them. Some boundaries, for the kitten’s sake, will have to be set. For now the little ball of energy seems content playing with Josephine’s ribbon, an adventurous spirit, clearly.

“Hello-“ someone says, the door creaking open, “- oh, sorry.” 

“No matter” I call, before the boy can close the door behind him. “Do you need help finding something, love?” 

He steps inside, if not hesitantly, “I- yes. Someone, actually.” 

I offer a smile, “Miss Bunce is in the garden, though I’m afraid I’m not quite sure when my son has gone too.” 

He fidgets, playing with his sleeve, “if you see him, could you tell him I’m looking for him? If it’s not too much trouble?” 

Poor boy looks terrified. If Malcolm’s tried scaring him somehow…

“If it’s not too much trouble,” the boy adds, a bit quickly. 

I smile again, “of course, love. Though, I must ask you how you managed to find your way to this room?” 

“I, um- Baz showed me, last time I was here. He was looking for some old photos,” he says, nodding to the assortment of portmanteaus and chests of to the side. “Sorry, I can leave if-“ 

“Nonsense,” I say, “you’re quite welcome. Now come sit, meet our new kitten. Basil has told me you’re quite good with animals.” 

He starts, as if surprised, “he did?” 

“Yes,” add Mordelia, “he says you herd goats.” 

He snorts, “I’m not sure about that.” 

Mordelia, bless her, pouts. 

Panic overcomes the boy’s face, and I want to laugh as he rushes to correct himself. “I mean, eh, Ebb is the real goat herder. I just help out. I do like goats though, and cats, I think.” 

Josephine squints, “you think?” 

Simon sits, “I’ve never, um, really met one before.” 

Josephine looks quite horrified at this revelation. “_Never_,” she whispers, looking at the new kitten in wonder. I’m not sure she realises that she has never actually known at cat until now either. 

“Well, I’ve seen them,” the boy offers, “a bunch of times.”

Josephine seems to consider this, before gesturing to the ball of orange on the floor. “This one is called Ugly,” she says. 

“That’s horrible,” says Mordelia, turning to Simon, “tell her he’s not ugly, Simon” 

Simon blanches, mouth gaping. 

“Girls,” I say, saving him, “why don’t you let Simon have a turn holding the cat, and you can run and get us some morning tea? How does that sound? Take your sister with you.” 

Mordelia scoops up Evalyn, giving a noticeable huff, but cooperating none the less. Josephine, however, does not seem convinced. “Joci, love,” I say, “you can spend time with the kitten in the moment, Simon will take good care of it while you go with your sisters to the kitchen.”

“Why can’t I stay here?” she argues, decidedly not moving. 

Mordelia groans, “come _on, _Joci. Mother wants to talk to Simon about grown up things and wants us to leave. There’s fresh jam in the kitchen anyway.” 

“Jam,” says Evalyn.

Jam, it seems, does the trick, and Josephine follows after her sisters, though admittedly with her lip curled in the familiar Grimm fashion.

I turn to Simon, who looks about as comfortable as a snail in a salt bath, “Mordelia is a little too smart for own good, I’m afraid.” 

“Malcolm has already talked to me, mam,” he says, head bowed a bit. 

I scoop up the kitten, who is mostly asleep now, “don’t worry love, I only wanted to ask you if you were alright. My husband can be a bit fixated once he wants to know something.” 

Simon reaches a finger out to pet the kittens head, feather light, “I don’t mean to cause any trouble.” 

“You haven’t done anything of the sought, you brought my son home safe, and that matters more to me than anything else.” 

The kitten angles its head for Simon to scratch. “It was him that brought me here,” he says quietly, rubbing the kitten’s cheek. 

He’s guilty, I realise. “Maybe so,” I say, “but I have a feeling you’ve been looking after Baz for quite a while now.” 

“He’s my friend,” he whispers. 

I watch him carefully, “Simon, did my husband say something?” 

He shakes his head, quick to correct me, “no, it’s just- we’re just friends. That’s it.” 

“Simon, love,” I say, “it only matters to me that you care for my son, not how you do. I can’t tell you how much relief it brings me that Basil has someone he trusts.” 

“I trust him too,” he whispers, the kittens purring almost louder. 

And that’s enough for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Next chapter might take a little longer to come out, uni starting up again.
> 
> Next few chapters have been outlines/planned. (16/7)

**Author's Note:**

> For word on updates, feel free to check out my Tumblr:
> 
> https://loki-the-god-in-green.tumblr.com/


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